


Modern Love

by GrapefruitTwostep



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: 1980's High School AU at that, Alternate Universe - High School, And get ready for some clique-y bullshit, Domestic Violence, F/M, Fist Fights, Slow Burn, Smoking, This is basically a John Hughes film but textual and also fanfiction, Underage Drinking, Whip out your David Bowie and your acid washed jeans kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2020-05-19 13:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 102,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19358104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrapefruitTwostep/pseuds/GrapefruitTwostep
Summary: High school should be the best time of Katara's life -- her brother certainly feels that way -- but after being ostracized by her popular friends, things aren't looking so good for her junior year. On the other hand, Zuko already hates high school and is just counting down the days until he can get out.In order to make this anything other than the worst year on record, they'll have to contend with malicious siblings, overenthusiastic jocks, the worst friends imaginable, and, most insurmountably ... each other.





	1. Owner of a Lonely Heart

 It was the second day of her Junior year and Katara was already eating lunch on the bleachers.

It wasn't that she wanted to. Katara would have quite happily gone back inside and sat in the cafeteria like a normal person — which was what she had been until the end of last year — but apparently the whole "Jet's girlfriend" thing had fucked her over in a lot more ways than she'd previously anticipated. She should have seen it coming when no one talked to her all summer, she thought as she bit into her ham sandwich. But she'd had to work all summer and between that and Sokka's usual assholery, she hadn't really noticed that none of her usual friends had deigned to speak to her. Spending three months elbow deep in ice cream made it hard to think about anything else.

But on the first day of school, when she walked into the lunch room and made eye contact with her usual friends, every single one of them had pretended she didn't exist. 

Faced with a lot of well-teased hair instead of any faces at all, Katara spent a minute staring at them in shock, unable to believe this was actually happening to her. There’d been no indication of this at all — or at least, she hadn’t noticed it. It all felt very sudden, and her fingers clutched at the bag lunch in her hands so hard the paper dug into the underside of her knuckles.

So she went outside to the empty football field and ate there and hoped that being curled up at the very top of the bleachers made it hard for anyone to hear her crying.

It was still nice out in early September, so the outdoors were still comfortable. She'd have to get over herself by the time winter rolled around, she knew, but right now she didn't really feel like getting over anything at all. At least she hadn’t cried today, likely because she hadn’t even tried to go into the lunch room at all. And Sokka, who never sat with her at lunch anyway, hadn't noticed her absence. He would, eventually, but for now he was still all wrapped up in the excitement of seeing people again, of being back with his jock buddies. She didn't fault him for that, not really. He was a senior and allowed to be an idiot for one more year.

She was still pissed though, because she didn't have anywhere to sit.

It could be worse, she thought in annoyance, pushing curls off her shoulder. It could be raining.

She leaned back on her elbows, the white plastic digging into her skin. She tilted her head back to look at the blue sky, still summery and warm even though Katara had been forced back into a classroom. At least she  _ had  _ a classroom, she thought. She certainly didn't have a lunch table.

"Katara?" someone yelled from down the benches. "Katara!"

It wasn't Sokka, so Katara sat up and peered down, trying to figure out who she was in trouble with now. But it wasn't one of her school friends — well, not friends anymore. Climbing up the steps towards her was one of Sokka's friends, a field hockey girl by her build and jacket. Katara squinted. She'd seen this girl at games and house parties, which at Katara's small house were always full of jocks of every stripe. This one was ... Suki. Somewhat infamous for being benched for half the season last year for breaking a hockey stick over an opposing player's head.

Katara tried to hide her sandwich under her sweater.

"You can eat, dingus," Suki said, taking the steps up the bleachers towards her two at a time. "I'm not going to judge you."

Slowly, Katara pulled the sandwich out again and raised her hands but didn't actually take a bite. "What are you doing out here?"

Suki shrugged. "I saw you leave. Don't you usually sit with the girls with the ... you know." Suki gestured at her forehead. "The hair."

Katara snorted, glancing at Suki's auburn hair, which was cut in a way that would have been stylish if she'd bothered to throw any product into it. "What's wrong with their hair?"

"Nothing," Suki said, her pale eyes flicking towards Katara's curls, which didn't need very much teasing to give them The Look. "What I am saying is that usually you don't spend a lot of time sitting outside on your own, pretending you don't eat food and ..." She shot Katara another look, slightly softer. "Being sad."

"I'm not sad," Katara said, even though her voice sounded watery. "Did Sokka send you out to talk to me?"

Suki snorted. "Are you kidding me? You think your idiot brother noticed anything wrong at all?"

Katara had to admit that was probably unlikely.

"No," Suki continued, shaking her head so her bangs flipped into her face. "I saw you leave. Figured that if they were being asswipes, maybe you needed someone to talk to." Suki shrugged. "Or not. Maybe it's none of my business."

Katara sighed. "Was it that obvious?"

"Not to Sokka, if that's what you're asking," Suki said, her mouth quirking up into a smile with a lot more malice to it than Katara had previously expected. "Probably not to the rest of them either." She rolled her eyes. "You know how dudes are."

"Sure," Katara said faintly.

Suki reached out and put one hand on Katara's shoulder. "Just be cool," she said. "Those bitches'll get over it."

It was almost impossible to meet Suki's eyes. Katara tried to force herself to do it, but she just couldn't. She didn't really  _ know _ Suki, anymore than she knew any of Sokka's friends. They were just a rambunctious organism rather than individuals, always in her kitchen and loitering on the small back patio of the little house she shared with Sokka and their grandmother. Suki stood out only a little, and that was mostly for being one of the few girls who transferred easily into the male jock circle. Also by being the star field hockey player and being somewhat prone to violence.

But none of that made Suki someone Katara wanted to confide in.

"Thank you," Katara said, looking down at the collar of Suki's letterman jacket. "I, uh ... appreciate you checking in on me. But I'm fine. Really. I mean, who needs them and their perfect hair, right?"

She tried to laugh. It didn't work.

Suki raised an eyebrow. "Sure," she said. "Whatever you say."

A brief silence fell between them and Katara took a bite of her sandwich. The sun overhead, summer hot and too bright, cooked the top of Katara's head. She really would have rather been inside with her friends, talking about what they did over the summer break, but no, of course not. Now she had to be a social pariah just because she'd dated one asshole who'd — 

"Hey, Katara," Suki said, peering at her. "You know you can sit with us, right?"

"I know," Katara said, also knowing that she wouldn't be doing that any time soon. It was bad enough to be ostracized from people she'd  _ thought _ were her friends for the last two years. Reacting to it by going and hiding with Sokka would just make it so much worse. That looked too much like running to her big brother for protection. And sure, his friends would accept her, exactly the way Suki was right now, but they'd always think of her as Sokka's little sister and Katara had spent enough of her life trying to avoid that. 

The look Suki gave her made it seem like she already understood Katara's thought process, but thankfully didn't pass a comment on it. "Just don't let yourself be caught out here in the rain," Suki said, gesturing to the sky, which showed no sign of inclement weather. "Then you're going to look like a  _ real _ dickweed."

Katara laughed again. This was exactly why Suki had no trouble fitting in. Most of the other sporty girls just went back to being normal girls when they weren't on the field. It wasn't like her brother, who was a football player no matter where he was. But Suki was more like Sokka. And maybe that was why she was bothering to speak to Katara. She had other issues and maybe other benefits.

"I'll be fine," she said. "I'm just taking a little ... you know, alone time."

"Sure," Suki said dryly, looking at her sideways. "Because you seem like the kind of person who's happy being alone."

Katara pouted.

Suki slapped her knees and stood up. "Just think about it," she said, shading her eyes against the noonday sun. "I'm not saying it's not nice and quiet out here now, but don't get caught up with the wastoids who come out here to skip. Then Sokka will actually know something's wrong and I gotta tell you, I don't wanna be around when that shit storm hits."

"He won't notice," Katara said.

"Yeah, well, he will if you start getting in trouble," Suki pointed out. "Think about it. He's kind of an idiot, I'll give you that, but if some nerdbrain like you suddenly starts failing, he'll probably figure it out. Just be careful."

"Thanks for being so concerned with my social standing," Katara said, and it sounded more acidic than she'd meant. "No one else is."

"Please," said Suki, deadpan. "I don't care about that. Do I look like someone who cares? I just don't wanna hear your brother bitch about it."

And with that, she hopped into the bench of the bleachers and hopped down to the next, taking them down like a very large and potentially dangerous staircase. She didn't miss a single one, and hit the track that ran around the edge of the field with ease, sticking her hands in the pockets of her green letterman without looking back.

Katara sighed and ate her sandwich with the attitude of a convict facing the electric chair.

* * *

 

There were some strange girls on the bleachers, so Zuko sat under one of the well-trimmed oak trees behind the gym to smoke. It was a riskier location, because some of the more facisst teachers might come ream him out for it if he got caught, but Zuko had never been above a little risk. He was actually waiting for Mai, but wasn't sure if she was going to show up — they were in one of their "off" periods right now and that meant he was kind of unclear as to whether or not she was going to try to stab him. 

Since there was no evidence of Mai, he just kept his head down and tried not to be pissed off, which was easier said than done.

His ribs ached — he'd gotten into it with his dad again last night and no matter how tall and tough Zuko got, his father was still bigger and hit harder. He should probably stop trying to stand up to his father, but hey, no one had ever accused him of being smart. It didn't help that in the last couple of years, Azula had decided to take their dad's side. He didn't really blame her, since at least that was a good way to avoid getting the shit kicked out of her, but it was crappy not to have anyone on his side anymore. 

He wondered why he'd even bothered to come to school when he could have been basically anywhere else. Except that he didn't actually have somewhere to go, so here he was, like an idiot, pretending he had any idea what was going on in senior chem.

One more year, he reminded himself. Nine months, actually, and he'd be done and could move away forever.

One of the girls from the bleachers hopped down and made her way off the field, her stride purposeful, shoulders back and chin up. She passed him on her way back into the school and glanced down. Zuko glared. The girl glared back and kept going.

So much for being nice.

He wanted to go lurk in his favorite hidden location under the slanted protection of the bleachers, but the other girl was still there, her feet propped up on the bench in front of her. She looked upset. Zuko knew there was plenty bleacher to hide under, but she was directly above his favorite spot, the one they'd dragged a bench into for full comfort purposes, and if she was crying or whatever, he really didn't want to be around it. So he stayed where he was.

"Hey, fuckass," someone said behind him.

He turned to look over his shoulder and caught himself smiling, even though he didn't want to. "If it isn't the brat," he said, forcing his mouth into a glower rather than a grin. "Aren't you supposed to be in class or something."

"It's lunchtime, dumbass," Toph said as she sat down beside him, delicately tapping her cane against the cinderblock of the wall so she didn't fall off the edge. "Besides, someone was giving me shit in PE this morning, so I punched her in the face and now I have detention so like, what are they going to do, give me  _ more _ detention?"

"Jesus Christ," Zuko said, suddenly exhausted by Toph's very existence. "You couldn't even get through a week of high school without reacting violently to something? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Toph glared at him, or in his general direction. "Look, you try being blind and suffering through public school, okay? Administrators keep trying to hold my fucking hand in the halls! I told them to get fucked."

Zuko closed his eyes. "Please tell me you didn't actually say that."

"Of course I did." Toph kicked her heels against the wall — her legs were too short to reach the ground. "The rents said I could go to some private baby school if I wanted, but I told them to get fucked too."

"You know, someday you're going to have to be less of a jerk," Zuko told her.

"Unlikely."

"So let me get this straight." Zuko steepled his fingers underneath his chin. "You don't want to be in public school, but you also don't want to go anywhere else because it's for babies. Do you maybe want to make up your mind about what exactly you  _ do _ want?"

"No," said Toph flatly. "I don't want to go to some private blind kid school because they'll just treat me like I can't do anything there too, just like everyone else. But no one actually wants to go to public school, Zuko, you know that. What kind of freak would I be if I just like  ... enjoyed high school?"

"Point taken," said Zuko, who personally hadn't enjoyed a single second of high school since he'd started. "I guess that makes sense." He shot her a little glance that she couldn't see and added, "But doesn't it just ... suck way more?"

"I don't know," said Toph. "It's only my second day. But probably." And then she grinned like a tiger who'd just devoured a baby.

Zuko didn't like that.

"You know," he told her, deftly changing tacts. "If you're going to hang out with me, you can probably kiss your social life goodbye. No one likes me."

"Cool." Toph tilted her head to one side. "Sounds like that sucks for you."

"You're so understanding," Zuko said, trying to sound annoyed and not like he was actually worried at all for Toph's high school career. "Don't you have like, friends or something?"

"Oh yeah, sure, plenty of people want to hang out with the new girl who can't see anything. You, on the other hand, already know me, so you have to at least be pleasant to me, you dig?"

A thought occurred to Zuko. "How  _ did _ you find me?"

"Azula's friend told me you'd probably be out there," Toph said, grinning again — she showed way too many teeth when she did that and it made Zuko so,  _ so  _ uncomfortable. "After that it was pretty easy to wander around until I heard you sighing like a big dummy."

"Thank you for that."

"You're welcome." Toph kicked her feet again and leaned back, eyes hooding as the heat hit her face. She was small even for a freshman, her dark hair messy and her clothing an odd mismatch of scuffed jeans, crisp plaid shirt, and denim jacket. She looked a little bit like a kid wearing her dad's clothing, which wasn't quite correct because one, Zuko had met Toph's dad, who was a banker and dressed like it, and two, because the jacket used to belong to Zuko himself and he’d been wondering where it had gone.

Zuko glanced at his watch. "Lunch is almost over."

"So?" Toph said.

"Alright, look," he told her, glowering, "I can do what I want. I'm a senior and also I have a reputation for not going to class already. You're only on your second day. You're going to class if I have to drag you there myself, clear?"

Toph's look was icy. "Don't you have a real-life little sister to bother?" she snapped.

"My sister is a bitch," Zuko said, which was true. "You, on the other hand, are young enough that there's still hope. How's that for a reason? What, you want to end up like Azula?"

Toph's whole face twisted up, but she managed to say, "No," in the most angry, put upon mutter Zuko had ever heard from another human being.

"Good. Go to class."

"Fine," Toph said, getting up off the wall and holding her hand out in a way that nearly demanded he escort her back into the school. After their childhood running in similar circles — parent parties, that kind of bullshit — he was used to helping her out when she requested it and so groaned, climbed to his feet, and took the hand, placing it on his arm.

"What class do you have?" he said as they started up the stairs, just in time to hear the bell ringing across the campus.

"History," she said darkly. "It's heinous."

"Great." Zuko glanced over his shoulder, wondering if Bleacher Girl would actually pull herself together and make it inside. She was gathering up her things and half-running down the stairs, so apparently so, though from the speed she was moving, she's clearly lost track of time. That's what she got, Zuko thought uncharitably, for taking up his favorite spot for her emotional mess. And now, since Toph had shown up, he would have to go to class too.

He sighed. What a fucking great way to start the year.


	2. Young Americans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is also about how many 80's (and 70's probably) song titles I can work into the chapter names and no I will not be stopped.

 Katara exited the front door in a crush of people, trying not to get trampled. This was so much harder to do on her own, she thought, wondering how exactly other people put up with being alone for so long. It seemed like it would just be so much work. Someone slammed into her shoulder in the jossle in front of the exit and she winced. 

Once she was free, she paused on the side of the walkway up to the school, looking out over the street. 

A horn beeped, then again, longer and more insistent.

Katara turned, but apparently not fast enough.

"Come on, dummy!" Sokka yelled, leaning across the passenger seat of his car. "Let's go! There are people waiting!"

Rolling her eyes, Katara made her way down the grassy hill and got into the car. Sokka managed to get out of the way in time for her to throw her book bag into the seat and then slip in herself, slamming the door closed just in time for Sokka to peel away from the curb like a crazy person.

"Jesus christ," Katara said and grabbed the door handle to keep from sliding across the front seat and slamming Sokka out his window. "Could you please slow down?"

"I've been telling him that for years," Aang said from the back seat, "and he's still not listening."

Katara turned around and grinned at Aang, who had taken the time to belt himself in to the middle of the bench seat. He had his books on his lap and his arms wrapped around them, as though worried they'd go tumbling off into the abyss if he let go. Given Sokka's driving, it seemed reasonable.

As usual, Katara caught herself grinning at Aang. "How was your day?" she asked.

Aang made a face. "Fine," he said, not sounding fine.

"Come on, you can't complain yet," Sokka said. "You're barely even in high school."

"Stop it," Katara said, turning briefly to Sokka to glare at him, which he didn't see. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, which was good because he was going about fifteen miles over the speed limit. His artfully mussed hair fluttered back from his forehead in the breeze from the open window. Katara kept glaring. "Don't be mean to him."

"I'm not being mean," Sokka said, putting one hand on his chest in false affront. "Come on, Aang, back me up."

"You want me to back you up that you're  _ not _ being mean to me?" Aang said.

"Okay, look," Sokka said.

"Enough out of you two." Katara turned away from Sokka and looked back at Aang. He looked so small, his shoulders rounded forward, dark hair combed flat against his head. Aang had been their neighbor since forever. He was the sweetest kid she'd ever met, but awkward. Personable, nice, kind, but naive. Sokka had driven him to and from junior high for the past two years, and Aang's ascension to high school had made the whole situation easier. But in Katara's head, he was still a little kid, crying the first time she'd gotten on the bus for first grade.

"Alright, Bossypants, keep your hair on," Sokka grumbled.

Due to Sokka's breakneck speed, it took them only five minutes to get home. Their house was small, modest. Very modest, actually — this wasn't one of the nicest parts of town, though Katara liked it more than she was willing to admit. Most of the houses around here were similar, small houses with small yards and small rooms full of too many people. 

Sokka parked the car in front of the house and all three of them got out. Aang didn't even bother going into his own house next door, which was almost identical to Katara and Sokkas. He would probably be there to sleep, and nothing else. His parents had died years and years ago and he lived with ... well, Katara could never remember if it was an uncle or a great uncle, but he let Aang run wild. Which for other kids would have meant they did something bad. In Aang's case, it meant he snuck off to the library whenever possible.

"Homework?" Katara asked.

Aang nodded and went straight into the kitchen, sat down at the tiny dining room table, and pulled out his books.

Katara looked at Sokka.

Sokka shrugged and stepped inside, not waiting to hold the door open for her, just kept going and expected her to catch it before it smacked her in the teeth. Which she did, but she wasn't happy about it. "Sokka!" she yelled after him. "Sokka! You know you can't fail a class, right?"

"Whatever," Sokka said, heading past the now thoroughly engaged Aang. "I'm not going to fail."

"You will if you don't do any of your homework," Katara insisted.

"Sure," Sokka said and opened the fridge, sticking his head behind the door and cutting off any further conversation.

Katara groaned and then caught Aang's half-hidden smile. "And you, mister," she said to him, folding her arms, "you know better than to encourage him."

"Sorry," Aang muttered, not sounding particularly sorry, but at least keeping his head down.

Katara sighed and sat down next to him. "What are you working on?"

"History  reading." Aang shrugged. "It's pretty boring."

"School isn't boring," Katara said in the same tone of voice her mother had used on her when she was very small, but she knew this was a different issue. Aang was smart. Almost too smart. Definitely too smart for his own good, but with kind of iffy social skills, or he wouldn't be camped out at his neighbor's table doing homework right after school.

"Geek," Sokka said, standing up and throwing an empty milk carton directly at Katara's head. She managed to duck just in time to avoid it and it bounced off the wall behind her.

"Sokka!" Katara shrieked. "What is your malfunction?"

Sokka sniggered and walked out of the room.

"Come back here!" Katara yelled. "It's your turn to do the dishes!"

"Make me!" Sokka yelled back and before she could go get him, he ran up the stairs and out of her line of sight. A door slammed.

"Asshole!" Katara yelled up the stairs, but got no response.

She hung on to the banister for a second, staring up the skinny staircase with its seafoam striped wallpaper, and then deflated. Slowly, she made her way back to the table and settled next to Aang.

"You know he does that because he knows it pisses you off, right?" Aang said without looking up.

"I just wish he would take things a little more seriously," Katara said with a sigh. "Not everything is about football and parties."

Aang, who hated Sokka's parties because they weren't really for the likes of him, or Katara either, made a face. "What I mean," he said, putting a pen into his book and closing it around it, "is that maybe if you didn't react to it, you'd —” 

"I'm not going to stop reacting to him just because you think he's doing it on purpose." Katara glowered at Aang, but stopped quickly because it felt too much like kicking a puppy. "I know he does it because it gets a rise out of me. I'm not an idiot, Aang. He's my brother. But that doesn't mean that the things he says don't deserve to get a rise at all. If I let him get away with it, maybe he'll start thinking stuff like that is okay. And it's not."

"Obviously it's up to you," Aang said, shrugging and looking back at his book, though his face was slightly pinker than before. "I just don't like it when ... " He trailed off, then added, "Nevermind."

_ When you two fight, _ Katara thought. It was what Aang hated most: confrontation. But Katara was all about confrontation, at least when it came to Sokka. And a lot more things in her life than she was willing to admit. Not that anyone would have accused her of being confrontational lately, she thought with a twinge in her belly that made her immediately regretted her choice of lunch company lately.

"Aang," she said quietly, "you know that when Sokka and I are mad at each other, we're not like ... actually mad, right?"

"I know," Aang said, only somewhat defensively. He made a face.

But he didn't know. Aang had no siblings and Katara knew that when Aang got angry, that was a big deal. For both him, and for everyone around him.

She sighed. "All right," she said, and got her own books.

Doing homework at least took her mind off her own drama. Katara actually liked the day-to-day of school — class, homework, the learning experience — so she applied herself to her book with a quiet studiousness that Sokka had tried and failed to tease out of her for years. There wasn't much reading to do so early in the year, but she had some biology notes to review. It was a subject that held some interest for her, but not much more than any other class would have, so she paged through with the half-detached interest of an honors student simply coasting.

"There's a blind girl in my English class," Aang said, looking up.

"Really?" Katara raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that hard for her? How does she ... you know, read?"

"She's got all these big books with little dots in them," Aang said, shrugging. "She seems to do okay, I guess. She answers questions when she's called on, but she seems kind of ... mean."

"A blind jerk?" Katara said.

"I mean," Aang said, flustered and shaking his hands over his history textbook. "Not that I'm saying she's a jerk. I didn't mean that at all. Just that ... she acts kind of tough, you know? Um ... abrasive."

"Are you practicing your SAT words?" Katara asked, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards.

"That's just how I talk," Aang said, pouting.

Katara laughed. "I'm just joshing you, kiddo," she told him. "So are you trying to befriend the mean blind girl?"

"I mean, maybe," Aang said, looking back at his book. "I don't know yet. It's not like I have any other friends."

"You have me!" Katara said in mock offense, even though she thought the exact same thing about herself. "And you have Sokka. How can you not have friends when you have us?"

"You're not in my class," Aang pointed out, but the smile on his oval face was too bright for him to be dismissing the comment entirely. "I mean like, friends I can see all the time. You and Sokka both have your own stuff going on. Sokka has football and you have ... you know. Girl stuff."

Katara didn't correct him. If Aang still thought she had girl stuff, it meant she was safe from him noticing that she didn't actually have any of that right now. Good. Not only did she not want pity from a fourteen-year-old, she didn't want to burden Aang with her problems. He was too young for that.

"Sure," she said instead, hoping her voice didn't sound too faint as she said it. "Girl stuff."

Whatever the hell that meant.

* * *

 

 When Zuko pulled into the driveway, Azula was smoking on the front steps.

"Oh good," she said, rolling her head around to look at him. "You're home. Dad's in a mood."

Zuko almost got back in the car and drove away again, but just managed to stop himself. "What kind of mood?" he asked, knowing he wouldn't like the answer but also deciding that not knowing anything at all was the worse option.

"He locked himself in the office for the last two hours and is playing that crappy classical shit he likes." Azula took a long drag on the cigarette and offered it to Zuko, who refused. Shrugging, she stuck it back into her mouth, adding more red lipstick stains to the filter. "I couldn't take the tension so I came out here. He'll drink it off, probably, but I thought I should warn you."

"Thanks," he said, not sure if he meant it. "Do you think I can sneak up to my room without him noticing?"

"Depends on how loud he's got his Bach," Azula said. She shook her head, which made her hair fluff up over her ears — not that it wasn't fluffy enough to begin with. "If he catches you, though, it's your ass on the line. I'm not helping you if he decides you've fucked up." She looked at his face, the scared eye that Zuko couldn't quite pretend he didn't care about, and added, "Again."

"So what, should I just sit out here all night?"

"I was kind of considering it," Azula said. She tried to play it light and calm, but there was a somewhat haunted look to her eyes that Zuko knew only too well. Azula handled their father very differently than Zuko, but as people they were very different to begin with. Zuko was, as he was often reminded, too much like his mother, while Azula had inherited their father's cold calculation. It wasn't enough to save her completely, but it made for two very different relationships with their only surviving parent. One was built on obvious signs of dislike, while the other was all about manipulation and a kind of emotional chess that, try as he might, Zuko  couldn't even begin to understand. Once he'd been jealous of Azula, but now he'd decided he'd rather take the bruises and scars rather than whatever their father had done to get into his baby sister's head.

"I assume you've got a rescue coming?" he asked.

"I do," Azula said. "They'll be here soon. I managed to call in the cavalry before he got into the liquor cabinet. You can join, if you want. If Mai agrees, that is." She flashed Zuko one of those cruel little smiles. "I hear she's upset with you again."

Zuko grunted.

He looked up and down the street, wondering if anyone would notice two teenagers sitting on the steps of their massive house and very specifically not going inside, but no one was looking their way. That was how it went. No one in this neighborhood was going to bother them, because that meant giving a shit about them. Totally unlikely.

"I'll find somewhere else to be."

Azula's painfully golden eyes narrowed. "Bad idea, dipshit," she said. "You know the kind of trouble you're gonna be in if you go there?"

"Well, maybe Dad should be less of a fuckup so then we could go into our own house," Zuko said.

"Seriously, Zuko, Mai will forget whatever she's mad about if you just —”

"No," Zuko said, getting up and walking back over to his car. "I'm fine."

"What am I supposed to tell Dad?" Azula yelled after him.

"I dunno, lie to him," Zuko called back. "Tell him I was at Mai's too. It's close to the truth."

"You're gonna get your ass handed to you!" Azula said, hands on her hips as she stood up. "Fight your own battles."

Zuko rolled his eyes, not bothering to contradict her. He did fight his own battles. That was the problem. That's why he looked like he'd had a nasty barbecue accident. Azula, on the other hand, always looked perfect and hadn't fought a battle against their father in years. Not a physical one, anyway.

"Just tell him I was at Mai's okay?" Zuko yelled.

Azula rolled her eyes but Zuko knew she'd do it. It was easier than explaining why she'd let him go off on his own.

Zuko got back into his car and pulled out of the driveway. He passed Mai on the way and didn't look at her too closely — the windows of her dark car were up so he didn't have to see her face. It was easier that way for both of them, though Mai probably would scream at him about it later.

So he drove across town to his uncle's house.

Iroh lived far away from the huge houses around Zuko's father's home. These were smaller, much smaller. Little row houses, narrow and tall. These were family houses, even though Iroh didn't have one. Well, except for his shitty nephew who came to sleep in his spare room when his own house was too uncomfortable to live in.

There were kids in the yard next door who waved to Zuko as he parked and got out. He waved back, ducking his head so they didn't look too closely at him or his odd face, and went up to the front door, taking the three steps onto the tiny porch. He knocked.

It took a moment, but the door opened to Iroh, covered in flour, beaming. "Nephew!" he said, reaching out to hug Zuko and covering him with powder as well. "Come in, come in. Have you eaten?"

"No," Zuko said, stepping into the hall beyond the door. "Am I interrupting?"

"No, no, of course not." Iroh bustled down into the kitchen at the other end of the house. "I always make enough to share. If it is not you, the neighbors are always kind to me. Here, sit down, I will get you something to eat."

"Um," Zuko said.

"Will you be staying tonight?" Iroh called.

Zuko settled onto the somewhat battered couch, sighing with relief. The house was clean and neat, though the furniture was either old or cheap or both. There were paintings on the walls in pale colors — pinks and beige and washed-out blue — and the carpeting on the floor was dark orange. It was a house that, unklike Zuko's own, felt like someone lived here. There was no designer or interior decorator involved in the creation of this place, just Iroh and his own taste. Which, Zuko knew and liked, meant simple, practical, and pretty.

"Would it be okay if I stayed?" he asked, still nervous about asking even though Iroh had never once said no.

"Of course," Iroh said, coming back into the room and handing Zuko a steaming cup of tea. It was a little warm for hot tea, but there was no getting around it in Iroh's house. Zuko knew he'd probably end up peeing like twenty times before he left, but at least his soul would feel better. Or at least that would be what Iroh told him when he complained.

Iroh sat down in the full armchair across from the couch and looked Zuko over. "Are you all right, nephew?" he asked in a way that carried more weight than it should have. It meant more than "How have you been" and covered a lot of unspoken ground between them.

"Fine," Zuko said somewhat gruffly. "I just ... Dad is in a mood and Azula bailed to go hang out with her friends and I didn't want to go with them. Hope that's okay."

"Of course," Iroh said, waving one hand. Despite his weight and the general look of comfort that Iroh always exuded, he was graceful and quick, and those chubby fingers were delicate when it came to selecting the best tea and the right Pai Sho pieces for a devastating win that would leave Zuko reeling. But Iroh's eyebrows came together as he asked, "But why would you not go with Azula? She is not staying with Mai?"

Zuko looked into his tea.

"Oh, my nephew the heartbreaker," Iroh said, immediately understanding and apparently feeling the need to make fun of Zuko for it. "You two run so hot and cold. You are like ... " Iroh paused and Zuko expected one of his platitudes, probably about fire and water never mixing lest they destroy each other, but instead, Iroh finished, "Like one of my stories."

"Ugh, Uncle, are you watching daytime soaps again?"

"Nephew, please." Iroh leaned back in his chair. "I am but a silly old man. I have nothing else to do with my days. What is so bad about finding something that I can stomach, when everything else on television is all violence and brutality? Let an old man have his small pleasures."

Zuko groaned. "But they're so stupid."

Iroh laughed again, but didn't respond.

After a long moment of comfortable silence while Zuko tried to blow on his tea to cool it enough to drink, Iroh said, "Did you bring your school books?"

"Yes," Zuko said, annoyed and wishing he'd managed to forget them, but given that they were in his car and he hadn't even made it into his own house, that would have been difficult.

"Do you have homework?"

He sighed, unable to lie to Iroh. "Yes."

Iroh gave him A Look.

"Fine," Zuko said, annoyed but already getting up off the couch. "I'll go get it. Why can't I be left to fail my classes in peace, uncle?"

Iroh's intensity softened slightly. "Nephew, you know that spare room is yours, if you want to take it. Permanently."

Zuko suffered two conflicting tsunamis of emotion. One was of joy and hope and a sense of freedom that he would only have from not living under his father's roof. It was only bolstered by the added benefit of living with Iroh, who despite his somewhat bumbling ways was kind and smart and provided the encouragement Zuko had never once gotten at home. But the other emotions were fear. What would be the consequences for Zuko to get out of his house? What would his dad do to him? Or to Azula, who was a bitch but didn't deserve the kind of bullshit they dealt with, no matter how terrible she was. It wasn't a decision he could make. Azula aside, it was his ass on the line too.

He smiled tightly at Iroh. "Thanks, uncle," he said, "but let's just work on one impossible thing at a time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this has something of a slow start, but as this is especially AU-y, I feel like I have to set a bunch of shit up first. I swear it'll get more interesting soon.


	3. Saturday Night's Alright (For Fighting)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware that some of the title songs are not from the 80's BUT I don't care, they're from the 70's and that's close enough given the way 80's movie soundtracks go.

 "I'm  _ just _ saying," Toph said, rolling her eyes, "that maybe you shouldn't be such a fucking wuss."

"Aren't you a little young to be swearing this much?" Zuko asked.

"How about you bite me?" Toph said, waving her hands to accentuate the eye roll, which had been so expansive that Zuko had felt its full effects from the driver's seat. "You're barely better than my parents, treating me like I'm twelve or whatever."

"You're only fourteen." 

"That's two whole years older, dumbass," Toph said. "Anyway, you're not answering."

"I didn't realize that my being a pussy was a question," Zuko said, his voice falling to even more gruff levels than usual as he tried not to punch a blind freshman girl out the open window of his car. "I thought you were just stating a fact as you saw it."

"Ooo, as I saw it, good save," Toph said. "Except I can't see, you brainless sack of —”

"Toph," Zuko said, using all the patience he'd stored for the single word, "I'm being really nice and driving you to school so you don't have to sit on a bus and I'd really appreciate it if you didn't fucking insult me."

Toph fell quiet for one blessed minute, and then said, "I just mean if your uncle will have you, just get your shit together and live with him. Wouldn't that make things easier?"

"I mean, maybe," Zuko said, "since I'd be fucking dead. Since my dad would kill me."

"Okay, yeah," Toph conceded, "I guess that's true."

They turned a corner, driving along a tree-lined street. They passed the bus that would have picked Toph up, ignoring the other kids with their faces plastered to the window, and then went through an intersection where Zuko almost hit some sophomore in their dad's station wagon.

"Motherfuckers," Zuko muttered.

The sound of deep personal offense Toph made was enough to turn the corner of his mouth up.

After a long minute of pouting, Toph said, "But the point stands. Dead or not, you have to get your shit together."

"I think if I'm dead, I don't have to do anything," Zuko said. "But thanks for your concern, I guess."

"I am actually concerned, thanks for noticing," Toph said. She put one elbow out her open window, fingers playing along the frame of the door. "I just don't want you to get hurt."

"Whatever," Zuko said, thinking of his ribs, which were still healing from a semi-recent fracture. "I think it's too late, but I guess thank you."

Toph gave him a disgusted look, which he couldn't return. "I know you think playing strong and silent is going to help you out in the long run, but it's not. It's just absolutely not and you're being a doofus. Why won't you leave?"

"Preservation instinct," Zuko said. "At the end of the school year, I'll just leave and never come back. No one is going to complain then. What can he do about a grown ass man leaving home?"

"Uh, probably something," Toph said, and then must have realized she was being pessimistic, and forced a smile. "I mean, yeah, exactly. But what are you going to do until then? June is a long time from now and he could —”

Zuko pulled into the parking lot a little too fast and Toph yelped and grabbed onto the door frame. A pair of girls shrieked as he roared past them and twisted the wheel hard, parking the car with ease in an empty spot. He slammed it into park and leaned back. 

"Why don't you just shut up, okay?" he growled at Toph.

"Eh, put a sock in it," said Toph, far less scared than he'd hoped she would be. "Come on, dingus, let's go."

Zuko spent a minute sitting in his car and fuming about not being taken at all seriously, but then Toph slapped an open hand onto the hood right in front of him, which scared the shit out of him, so he had to go inside or risk making even more of a fool of himself.

* * *

"That's her," Aang said, pointing across the parking lot from his spot on the bench next to Katara, where the two of them were enjoying the last few minutes of dry before the threatening rain storm brewing in gray clouds on the horizon. "That's the blind girl in my class. Toph."

Katara looked up and saw the girl in question, smaller than she'd expected, with broad shoulders, wearing a too large men's button down shirt and ripped jeans. She was slapping the palm of her hand on the hood of a red Camero that probably cost more than Katara's whole house. Whoever was driving the car — a tall boy whose face was obscured by dark hair — yelled something at Toph and she yelled back.

"Yeah," Katara said. "She seems ... nice."

"Really?" Aang said, surprised.

"Uh," Katara said, watching the girl sit down directly on the hood of the car, which elicited more yelling from the driver. "Sure."

The bell rang and Katara had to stop watching Aang's new friend because she had to run to English Comp.

The hardest thing about her classes, she thought as she slid into her desk, halfway to the back of the room, was finding a new place to sit. Her old friends Sooyin and Leri had class with her, but they didn't want her anywhere near them, which she'd found out when she'd tried to sit next to them and found Sooyin's bag in the chair. She was used to sitting closer to the front, but there was no way she could do that now, so she'd slunk towards the back like a kicked dog and settled herself to the center and left of the room, as far away from her former friends as she could get without edging into the back-of-class freak zone.

That didn't mean she wasn't learning anything. Actually, she was probably learning more without Sooyin's constant stream of whispered comments and Leri's insistence on hair tossing no matter what the situation. It did, however, mean that Katara was starting to look more and more like the nerd she was.

Halfway through, Sooyin whipped around and gave her a look like Katara had kicked her puppy. Katara was so taken aback, she knocked her book off her desk and had to scramble around on the floor, blushing, to retrieve it.

So that didn't go well.

But honestly, Katara was willing to take a few nasty looks here and there. It was only after third period History that things really started to go wrong.

She was in the bathroom before lunch, washing her hands, when Leri waltzed in and stopped directly behind Katara.

Katara looked up and met Leri's green eyes in the mirror. They were haughty and cold, a look Katara had seen plenty of from Leri, but always directed at other people. The full force of the look was almost too much for her.

She shut off the water and turned around, folding her arms. "Can I help you?"

Leri's mouth twisted. "No. Obviously."

Katara sighed. "Fine. Whatever." She turned towards the door but only managed to take a single step in that direction before Sooyin stepped out of a stall and blocked her path.

Katara stepped back again, the small of her back bumping against the sink counter. "It's a party," she said, forcing a smile. "Are we all going to be nice to each other again?"

For a minute she thought they would just let her out, but then the door banged open and Hemah came into the bathroom, her hands on her hips. Katara's heart sank. Hemah was the official princess of Four Nations  Public High School and despite the fact that she treated Katara as her friend most of the time, Katara still held on to an odd primal fear of Hemah. 

"Oh," she said, trying to step back even further but not going anywhere. "Hi, Hemah. How are you?" 

No one said anything.

Katara licked her lips. "Good summer break?"

"I can't believe," said Sooyin to Hemah, turning her oversprayed head towards last year's junior prom queen, "that this freakazoid had the audacity to think she could just ... ignore us."

"You are so right," Hemah said, folding her arms. She wore very little skirt, which was probably how she was passing American History right now, but despite that and the pink band perched in her dark hair, the look in her eyes was anything but sweet and sultry. It was all disgust and anger and that little dash of fear that Katara had only seen in them once, right after Jet had gone totally off the rails.

Which was, interestingly enough, the only time Katara hadn't been afraid of any of them at all.

It suddenly occurred to Katara that maybe if she was afraid of them, they had never been her friends to begin with.

"All right," she said, squaring her shoulders. "It's been fun, but I have to get to lunch. I'm hungry and some of us have things to do today, so if you'll just excuse me —”

"Where do you think you're going?" Leri spat.

"I just told you," Katara said. "So if you could —”

"You think you're better than us, huh?" Hemah said, tilting her head to one side. "Well, you're not. You're just trash that we let sit with us for a while. You and that brother of yours —”

"You've been trying to get with my brother since you were thirteen," Katra said, shocked.

Hemah's face went very pink. "Shut your stupid mouth, Katara."

Katara swallowed hard. "Hemah," she said in the pacifying tone that she always used on Sokka when he was at his worst, "don't you think maybe you're overreacting a little bit? It's not all that bad, right? Maybe we can just talk about this —”

"I told you to shut up," Hemah said, her face reddening further but this time it was from rage rather than embarrassment. "We just don't need people like you around. Clearly you came in here trying to mess with us because you're such a sad little —”

"Okay," said Katara, folding her arms. She'd tried nice and placating, but clearly Hemah was expecting something that Katara wasn't willing to feel. "Why don't we just all go to lunch and I won't even look at you and then we can all get on with our lives? I get it, I'm not in the club anymore. I'm bad news. That's fine. But let's all just be reasonable people, okay?"

"Stop _talking_!" Hemah snapped, stomping her foot. "No one cares what you say."

And it was, in a way, true, and that's what made Katara snap.

She smiled, though it felt more like a sneer, tensing her cheeks unnaturally. "Hey, Hemah," she said, as sweetly as she possibly could, "how about you shove it?"

Hemah's face twisted. "Sooyin," she said.

And like a good lap dog, Sooyin drew her hand back, palm open, and aimed right at Katara's face.

The problem, for Sooyin at least, was that Katara had a big brother who had beaten her up as a child, and later taught her a couple of little tricks. It wasn't a trick she used now, though, just went with her gut reaction which was to punch Sooyin right in the mouth.

It was a solid hit and Katara's hand cracked against the bone of Sooyin's jaw. Sooyin screeched and reeled back. Pain blossomed in Katara's knuckles as they split open on Sooyin's teeth and she winced, snatching her hand back and shaking it as though that would rinse the pain from it.

Hemah stared for a second, open mouthed, and then she came at Katara, nails first and screaming like an angry ghost.

That first punch had been good, and Katara had felt pretty okay about doing it. Sooyin deserved it, and Hemah would have deserved twice that. But the problem, she found almost immediately, was there were three of them and only one of her. All the little tricks Sokka had taught her didn't do a lot when Leri pinned Katara's arms behind her back and let Hemah wail on her. Predictably, the prom queen didn't hit very hard, but who needed to hit hard when one could hit _repeatedly_?

Katara got a couple more punches in, but it was less than she'd hoped, and once her lip split open, it was hard to focus on things other than the pain in her face. She managed to get Hemah a good headbutt to the side of the face, which would probably bruise but not as badly as Katara's face would.

There was a lot of pain.

There were more girls crowding into the bathroom but none of them helped. Sooyin grabbed Katara by the hair to hold her head still so Hemah could slap her right across the face, her nails raking into Katara's cheekbone.

"What's going on here?" yelled a voice, male and adult.

Hemah's head shot up.

Katara took the moment of distraction to kick Hemah right in the stomach. When Hemah doubled over, coughing, Katara yanked herself away from Leri's grip — wrenching her shoulder in the process — and barrelled her way out of the bathroom. She knocked a couple of freshmen into a stall but didn't stop to apologize. She ran past the teachers gathered at the door — all men, probably why they hadn't broken the fight up — and pounded down the hall as fast as she could go.

No one stopped her as she hit the back exit at full speed and burst out into the pouring rain.

* * *

Zuko skipped Pre-Calc, which seemed like a great idea until he realized that he had nowhere to hide. Rain was sliding down the windows. It was a little late in the season for this kind of weather, but he wasn't a meteorologist. He just wanted somewhere to be that wasn't inside this hellhole of a building.

Braving the rain, he opened the back door and made a break for it anyway.

He ran under the cover of the bleachers, jacket held over his head as though that would help keep him dry. Obviously, it didn't. A drop rolled off his chin as he reached the drier ground and sagged against the support column. He shook water from his eyes and fumbled in his pocket with cold fingers for his cigarettes. He managed to pull it out and tapped one into his hand, barely catching it. Two tries to light it and then he sighed, settling back and watching the rain.

Someone behind him coughed awkwardly.

Zuko spun, heart leaping into his throat and he caught himself on the seating support beside him. There was a girl sitting on his bench, watching him through bright, mismatched eyes. For a second, he actually thought one of her eyes was darker than the other, but no, it was the skin around it that ...

Zuko blinked.

"Holy fuck," he said.

"Yeah, thanks," the girl said wryly. "Just what I like to hear when a boy looks at me."

Zuko ignored the bite in her tone and looked the girl over more carefully. One eye was surrounded by a bruise that was already a deep purple, the kind that would hang around for a good long time. Her nose was bleeding too and there were long scratches on her cheek that could only have come from fingernails. Her hair, the kind of dark, heavy curls that were probably natural rather than carefully sculpted, had all gone frizzy around her face, as though it had been pulled. Which it probably had been, he thought. His eyes flicked to her hands and he found himself at least somewhat impressed by the cuts on her knuckles; she'd clearly gotten in a few hits herself, and not the kind of shrieky, flailing ones that he'd seen when girls fought.

Under the blood and bruises, though, she looked ... familiar.

His eyes narrowed.

"Hey, wait," he said, pointing at her with the lit end of his cigarette, ash flaking off onto the ground. "Didn't your boyfriend try to stab me?"

He watched the emotions flutter across her face; shock first, than recognition, and then in its wake, a boiling anger that took him by surprise, but probably shouldn't have, given what she looked like.

"Ex-boyfriend," she spat. "And _you_ had it coming."

"Excuse me?" Zuko said, shocked.

 "All right, maybe you didn't," the girl allowed as though it pained her to say, "and okay ... Jet probably shouldn't have tried to stab you, that's a little extreme." She wagged one finger, the knuckle crusted in old blood. "But you understand why he did it."

"Look, I'm the first to say my dad's a fucking asshole," Zuko snapped. "Maybe your psycho boyfriend should stab the right person next time."

"Ex-boyfriend," she said, louder this time.

He looked her over again. Even with the black eye, the blue of her irises shown through, bright against the brown of her skin and the shadows of the bleachers. Next to her face, the neat pastels of her clothing were strange, as though the two things came from two different people. For the first time, he noticed she was barefoot.

"Wht the fuck happened to you anyway?" he asked.

She looked away, the first time she'd done so since he'd seen her. "Nothing," she said. "I fell."

"Oh, you fell into someone's manicure?" He took a long drag off his cigarette and watched her. The hard set of her mouth was impressive, given that her bottom lip was split and puffy and she looked like absolute shit. “I assume you also punched the floor on your way down.”

Her mouth twitched and she winced as the cut in her lip reopened. “All right, I guess it’s not particularly believable.”

“Not really,” Zuko said.

She sighed and used the back of her hand to wipe blood off her mouth. “I got beat up. My former friends have decided that I committed the cardinal sin of having bad taste in men and now they won’t talk to me.”

“But they did manage to find it in their hearts to kick the shit out of you?”

The girl’s eyes flicked back and forth, guilty. “All right, so maybe I helped by telling them to get bent.”

That sounded better. Zuko raised an eyebrow. “Did you at least get in some good hits?” he asked, jerking his chin towards her hands.

The grin she flashed him was almost feral. “I think so. Too bad there were more of them than of me.”

Impressive. There was a bloodthirsty streak to her that he hadn’t expected. He narrowed his eyes, peering at her. “Your name’s ... Katra?”

“Katara,” she said. “And you’re Zuko.”

“It’s not impressive that you know that, since your boyfriend tried to stab me.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” she repeated, this time from behind gritted teeth. “And anyway, why are you complaining. He didn’t actually stab you. And he’s in juvie now so maybe you should shut up about it.”

“Touchy subject,” Zuko said blandly. “Noted.”

She flashed bloody teeth at him, which was, he had to admit, pretty terrifying.

“Why’d he do that anyway?” he asked instead of considering how willing Katara was to tear his throat out.

She sighed. “They didn’t tell you?”

He shook his head.

“His dad used to work for your dad,” Katara said, tapping her fingers against the worn wood of the bench. “Years ago. Your dad fired him. Twenty years at the company and just fired, just like that.”

“How is this my problem?” Zuko asked, watching Katara’s fingers and their idle beat.

“I’m not done,” she said in a snooty way that made Zuko glad she wasn’t in his classes. “Jet’s parents are dead. Murder-suicide, actually. His dad got fired, came home, shot his wife and himself. I guess he couldn’t handle the shame of it. Jet wasn’t in the house. He came home to find their bodies.” She paused, then added, “He was ten.”

Zuko was quiet for a second. Rain hammered in the seats above them and dripped down through cracks in the wood.

“Okay,” he said quietly, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. “That sucks, but it doesn’t make it okay to stab me. I didn’t fire anyone and I didn’t make some insane selfish decision. Hell, if he was ten, then I was ten too.”

Katara looked away, highlighting the play of gray light across her developing bruises. “It wasn’t smart,” she said quietly. “I’m not an idiot. I know it wasn’t rational. Why do you think he’s my _ex_ -boyfriend?”

“Glad you came to your senses,” he said.

She glared.

Zuko twirled the end of the cigarette between his fingers, watching her. “So my crime was being my father’s son, and yours was ... ?”

Katara touched her bloody mouth. “Dating Jet. Or dumping him, it’s a little hard to tell. I dunno if they would have preferred if I’d never dated a psycho or if I’d stood by the psycho.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighed. “I dumped him loudly through a car window before the cops even showed up. I was in with the popular crowd because I was dating him, and then his crimes were my crimes but also _he_ was the real friend, and I was mean to him.” She ran a hand over her hair, which was becoming frizzier in the wet. “They wanted an excuse to get rid of me, is all.”

“Why?”

She rolled her eyes. “I live in Aurora Hill.”

Zuko made a face. It was the neighborhood Iroh lived in. “So?”

“You live in Palace Heights, in a big house and probably have like, a maid or something.” Katara folded her arms and for the first time Zuko noticed that she was soaking wet and there were goosebumps on her bare arms. “I _am_ the maid.”

“I still don’t see what this has to do with anything.”

She huffed in annoyance. “Of course you don’t. Nevermind.”

He folded his arms. "Alright, don't be a bitch about it."

"Shut up," she snarled.

Just his luck, he thought. He had to get _his_ hiding spot invaded by a preppy bitch with a chip on her shoulder. It was seriously starting to feel like the only girls who talked to him were the ones that wanted to strangle him.

"Besides," Katara said, "they're your sister's friends."

Zuko's eyebrows rose. To his knowledge, Azula's only friends were Ty Lee and Mai. Sure, Azula always looked great and got perfect grades because she was an overachieving son of a bitch, but that didn't make her _popular_. It did make her feared, and most of the people in her class viewed her with a kind of distant awe.

"I don't think she has friends," Zuko said.

"Okay, maybe her ... hangers on," Katara said. "Or her imitators. Hemah's always talking about whatever Azula's wearing or eating or talking about."

"So they're not actually her friends," Zuko said, feeling more at home with this conversation.

"No. They look up to her."

"So you got the shit kicked out of you by people who actually _want_ to be like Azula?" Zuko said. "Rough."

"Tell me about it." Katara made a face. "It's really just a total embarrassment."

For a moment, they fell quiet, not quite looking at each other. Rain dripped through the benches above them and onto the ground at by Katara's toes. Zuko watched her without actually looking at her, taking in the painted nails with chipped edges and the formerly perfect mascara smeared around the corners of her bright blue eyes. She was pretty under the blood, Zuko decided, but not his type. Too soft, despite her bruises. Too clean and delicate.

"I am sorry about Jet," Katara said quietly. "I'm glad he didn't _actually_ stab you. I know it was super messed up, what he tried to do, and I'm not trying to defend him. I just ... get it."

"Jet's not the only person who hates my dad," Zuko said gruffly, unused to being apologized to. "He should have just gotten in line, because I've already got dibs on stabbing."

Katara's mouth clenched. "I'll let him know."

Zuko's cigarette had burned down and he dropped it onto the damp ground, stomping on it with the heel of his combat boot. "Come on," he said somewhat gruffly, not quite looking at her. "I'll drive you home."

Katara's head shot up. "Excuse me?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist," Zuko said, shrugging his jacket on — he didn't offer it to her because her pose said that if he tried to do anything more, take any more liberties, she'd punch him too and not feel bad about it. "You think you're going back to class looking like that?"

Katara's mouth set in a hard line. "I'll be fine."

"You look like you got dragged behind a horse," Zuko said, running his eyes over her bruises again. "I"m not saying you should run away or anything, but I don't think you'll be doing a lot of studying when you won't even be able to see out of that eye in a minute."

"My brother will worry about me," Katara said. "He's supposed to drive me home."

Zuko narrowed his eyes, trying to think who her brother was. "Wait, he's the quarterback, right? In my class?"

"Yeah," Katara said.

"Figures." He rolled his eyes. "I'll make sure he knows. I got a friend who can tell him. Then neither one of us has to fuck around this dump any longer."

Katara made a face.

"You want to see you looking like that?" Zuko said casually, not quite looking at her but knowing that was his ace in the hole.

Sure enough, her face crumpled and she sighed deeply. "Why?" she said.

"Hmm?"

"Why?" She looked up at him, head cocked to the side, one good eye narrowed. He'd been right and the other eye was swelling up, distorting as the purple skin around it expanded. It made him feel a little bit like looking in a mirror, except her disfigurement would heal up just fine, whereas he was stuck with his. Her mouth turned down. "You don't even know me," she told him.

"Don't look a gift car in the mouth," he said, feeling like Iroh as he dodged the question.

She snorted. "You're right. I don't want them to see me like this. I could walk in there and pretend it doesn't matter, but it _would_ matter. It really, _really_ would. I don't need those stuck-up airheads thinking I want pity for what they did to me either."

"Cool speech," Zuko said. "Come on."

It was still raining so they had to make a mad dash to the back entrance of the school, feet kicking up muddy grass, and when they made it, Katara was gasping harder than she should have been and clutching her ribs. "Sorry," she said, leaning against the wall of the building and sucking in deep breaths. "They must have — gotten me — harder than I thought."

"Whatever," Zuko said, then added, "Stay here and open the door."

Finding Toph was easy, since she sat alone in the cafeteria. Zuko felt a little bad about sneaking up on her, so he knocked on the corner of her table twice before approaching her. "Toph," he said quietly. "It's Zuko."

"What's up?" Toph said, catching something in his voice and looking at his left ear with hard, serious eyes. Her mouth turned down at the corner.

"I gotta go," he said quietly, looking around to make sure a teacher wasn't going to watch him come in and immediately leave again. "I'm going home. You good to take the bus?"

"Sure, whatever," Toph said. "You're gonna skip?"

"Something came up," Zuko said. "Look, I need a favor."

"Okay," Toph said, head tilting, "whatever you need, I gotchu. What's up?"

"I need you to find a senior named Sokka and tell him I'm taking his sister home for him, so don't freak out. She'll be there when he gets home."

Toph's eyes shot up. "Okay," she said slowly, "I'll do it, but you're going to have to tell me everything later."

"She's sick," Zuko said gruffly. "It's nothing. Just tell him, okay?" Over Toph's shoulder, he saw the vice principal's weasel-like gaze sweeping the room in bored strokes. "I need to go."

"All right," Toph said, with the air of someone entrusted with a very important secret and not planning to keep it at all. "See you later."

He knew he was going to get it from her later, but there was nothing he could do. Vice Principal Zhao was moving in his direction and he didn't want to get in even more trouble; someone still needed to take Katara home and he wouldn't be able to if he was stuck in an office somewhere like a toddler in time out. "Thanks," he said to Toph, clapping her on the shoulder and ducking behind a passing group of students, following them for a few feet and then sprinting out the door.

Katara was still waiting for him under the overhang of the back door, her arms wrapped around her chest. "Glad you're back," she said with a glare that was only somewhat lessened by her chattering teeth. "Thought you'd decided to bail on me. Are we going?"

"Demanding, aren't you," Zuko said, glaring at her.

She made a face. "I'm cold. Would it kill you to just be nice?"

"Would it kill _you_?"

There was another moment of general scowling and then Zuko finally broke and gestured broadly and sarcastically towards the parking lot. "Shall we?" he said and set off without waiting for Katara to follow. It would be her bad luck if she decided to stay.

There was only a twinge of guilt in his stomach about his attitude. But really. Only a twinge.


	4. Moving in Stereo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title's funny because it's a song by the Cars and the whole chapter takes place in a car.
> 
> -finger guns-
> 
> Not sorry.

 Katara eased herself into the front seat of Zuko's Camaro, wincing as her damp skirt stuck to the leather. She was dripping all over the car, even as she closed the door behind her. Water rolled down her face and she shook it off, then immediately felt terrible.

Apparently not caring about his vehicle as much as Katara did, Zuko flung himself into the driver's seat, slamming the door closed behind him. He shook his head like a dog, hair sticking to his forehead, and then ran a hand up his face to shove the dark strands off his brow.

Silence filled the car, except for the drumming of the rain on the roof. Usually the sound calmed Katara, made her feel less anxious, but being in this strange car with this strange boy who talked to her like he couldn't care less about anything she said meant that her usual coping mechanisms were right out the window.

Zuko leaned his elbows on the steering wheel and shot a look at her out of the corner of his eye. "You're dripping blood all over your shirt," he said.

Katara looked down and found he was right. The clots and scabs from her face had moistened in the rain and come loose, sliding down her cheeks and chin and into the collar of her blouse. Katara pulled it away from her skin, suddenly aware that her white bra was visible through the silk, and sighed. "This is one of my favorites," she said.

"Well, now it'll just be more pink. No harm, no foul."

Katara cut him an unintentionally harsh look, and then tried to temper it because she realized he was helping her out. It made her squinch her nose up funny, which was probably a pretty disgusting look.

Zuko huffed. "Look, you gotta tell me where you live.  _ Where _ in Aurora Hill?"

"Just drive," Katara said, wrapping her hands around her chest, even though she was pretty sure Zuko hadn't been staring  _ at all _ — should she be offended by that, or thankful? "I'll tell you where to go."

"Sure," Zuko said, and turned on the car.

The radio wasn't actually very loud, but in the space between them, it pressed on Katara's eardrums. She winced and Zuko, grumbling to himself, reached out to turn it down.

"Thanks."

"Sorry it's not some teenybopper bullshit," Zuko said, pulling out of the parking spot. "I'm not changing it."

"I didn't ask you to," Katara said.

"Good," Zuko told her.

"Good."

After that gripping exchange, they lapsed into awkward silence. Katara kept her hands firmly over her chest and found herself watching Zuko's hands on the wheel. She'd known who he was immediately — both for the Jet conflict and also because most people knew who Zuko was. Even though he wore his hair over a lot of his face, the scar over his left eye was pretty hard to ignore. From what Sokka had said, he hadn't had it until his freshman year, but no one knew the details of how he'd come by it.

From this angle, she couldn't see the scar, and it made Zuko look somewhat softer, though the annoyed downturn of his mouth made it so that it wasn't as soft as she would have hoped. Not, she pointed out to herself, that she was sitting around hoping this angry senior boy would look  _ soft _ . That wasn't what she needed or wanted at all. It was just that he looked so angry and upset that she wondered if it was like her grandmother always said: if he kept making that face, it would get stuck that way.

Zuko drove more slowly than she expected, given both his reputation and his car. The tires hummed against the wet road, a kind of background counterpoint to the rain rattling on the roof.

"You really didn't have to do this," Katara said finally. "I was fine. I could have just gone back to class."

"Nice of you to tell me that when I'm already skipping," he said. "Thanks for that."

Alright, so maybe she just  _ wouldn't _ try to talk to him, if he was going to be like that.

She folded her arms a little more tightly across her chest and stared out the passenger side window.

"You know," Zukos said, a few streets later, when they were passing under the outstretched branches of neat trees in a neighborhood Katara didn't belong in, "you should probably learn to defend yourself, if you're planning on going around starting fights."

"I didn't start it!" she said.

"Didn't you?"

She had to admit that maybe he was right and maybe she had started it, at least a little. It had been a mutual start, at the very least. It wasn't like she'd made any move to get Hemah and company to back down. She'd just gone straight after them like a total freakazoid.

"Okay," she said, hating having to admit any fault, "so maybe I helped start it. I did okay, though."

"You look like shit," Zuko said.

"Classy." She made a face at him, which he didn't see because he was watching the road through the swinging wiper blades. "Real nice of you to tell a girl that she looks bad. Very kind of you. No wonder no one likes you."

"No one likes me because I'm an asshole," Zuko said with a bland, factual tone that made Katara wasnt to hit him even more than she already did, which was impressive. "And it's true. Do you want me to lie to you, tell you that you  _ don't  _ look like death warmed over?"

She didn't want that. It would probably just make her feel worse if he tried to tell her she was pretty right now. Robbed of her annoyance, she just said, "Hmm," and kept looking out the window.

"What I mean," Zuko said, "is that if you're going to keep picking fights, you're either going to need to get better at fighting, or you're going to need someone to protect you."

"I don't need protection," Katara snapped.

"Oh yeah? Tell that to the shiner you're going to have for the next week. Can you still see out of that eye?"

Katara couldn't, but she certainly wasn't going to tell Zuko that. He'd just make a smarmy comment about it.

"Told you," he said when she didn't answer, obviously not needing her confirmation. "Don't you have an older brother? What was  _ he _ doing while you were getting beat up?"

"I don't know," Katara spat. "I didn't tell him."

"That you got beat up?"

"No, that they don't like me anymore."

That made Zuko shut up, for which Katara was grateful.

After a second though, he said in a voice rough with shock and anger, "You didn't  _ tell _ him?"

"No, okay?" Katara pulled her bare, muddy feet up towards her chest, resting her heels on the seat. She kept her skirt between them and the leather, figuring that was about all she could do as thanks to Zuko for driving her home, not messing up his car too much. "I didn't tell Sokka that they're not talking to me. I didn't tell them I've been eating lunch alone, and I'm definitely not telling him they beat the stuffing out of me."

"I think he'll know," Zuko said.

"Well, he's an idiot, so he'll probably buy whatever lie I feed him," Katara said, hoping it was true because she really,  _ really _ did not want to explain to Sokka what had happened. That sounded really embarrassing and she didn't want to wreck her reputation like that, at least, not with him. And it would make everything worse, to have her brother following her around like she was a weenie who couldn't take care of herself.

"What the fuck?" Zuko said softly.

"Look, some of us don't have great home lives, okay?" Katara said.

"Oh wow, never met anyone like that." The sarcasm dripping from Zuko's tone was intense to the point of physicality, the words burning against Katara's ears like acid. "Nope, never met anyone who has a shitty family. Never at all."

Katara made a face.

"Your brother at least seems to like you, for all you're a brat," Zuko said, and Katara didn't hear the rest because she was too busy starting at him in offended horror, which he didn't notice.

After a minute she said, "What?"

"I said, you should probably tell him because he'd want to know," Zuko said, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "Are you stupid?"

"I'm not stupid!" Katara said, pulling her feet knees in tighter as thought that would help stave off the anger she felt towards Zuko in the driver's seat right now — it didn't.

"Yeah, well," Zuko said, "maybe you should stop acting like it."

"Are you always like this?" Katara demanded.

"Yes." He rolled his eyes, or at least the one golden one she could see, which was a little bit of an odd image. "What part of 'being an asshole' is hard for you to comprehend?"

"Well, it's stupid," Katara said, feeling like they were turning into a couple of elementary school students with their insistance of the stupidity of things. Which, she had to admit, was how most of her fights with Sokka went, so maybe it was just something about senior boys. Maybe they were all regressing to a time before they had to be responsible.

"Whatever," Zuko said and then, to Katara's great surprise, added, "I could help you out if you wanted."

"Doing what?" She almost laughed but bit it back at the last second. "What do you think  _ you  _ can do to help me maneuver through the upper echelons of high school society?"

"Ugh," Zuko said. "That sounded suck up."

"Well maybe I'm suck up."

"No, you absolutely are." His mouth twitched up at the corner, just a little bit, into something that could have been considered a smile if he didn't look so angry about doing it in the first place. "I've already figured out that you're stuck up. But you don't need to sound like it."

"So what do you mean?"

"I mean," Zuko said with false patience, "that if you need someone to keep an eye on you in school that isn't as embarrassing as your big brother, I'm volunteering my services."

"You're  _ what _ ?" Katara couldn't stop herself from laughing, though she did slap her hand over her mouth as quickly as possible. Not quickly enough. "Are you saying you'll be my  _ bodyguard _ ?"

"I mean, I probably wouldn't say it like  _ that _ ," Zuko said and took a corner a little more sharply than Katara had anticipated. "But yeah, I guess that's what I'm saying."

"Why?"

Zuko's one visible eye flicked over to her and there wasn't any annoyance in it now, just a long suffering kind of silence that Katara didn't know what to do with. "You look like you need it," Zuko said.

"I can take care of myself."

"I know that. I'm just assuming you want to also be able to get through your junior year without getting totally wrecked every day. It's hard to be valedictorian if you can't go to Pre-Calc because someone broke your nose."

It took Katara a second to unwrap everything he'd said — she was mostly annoyed about the implication that he knew she was a secret brain — and  then she said, "Thanks. But no."

"Well," Zuko said, his voice even more gruff than usual, "think about it."

She stared at him, unable to form a coherent thought.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

Katara jumped and looked out the window. They were, in fact, on her street, though a couple of blocks down. Zuko had slowed to a crawl, his expensive car at odds with the others lining the street, sticking out like a diamond amongst gravel. Katara swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable with the fact that he'd gotten her this close, and said, "I can walk from here."

"It's pouring."

"I'm already wet," she said, suddenly deciding that she didn't want him to see her house, even though they were already among the ones that looked exactly like it and she felt like an idiot for the sudden rush of nerves. "It'll be fine."

"Katara, you gotta chill," Zuko said. "We're already here."

"How do you even know where here is?" Katara snapped. "You shouldn't be  _ here _ . You should be in your  _ own _ neighborhood with your  _ own  _ people and —”

Zuko pointed out the window. "That's my uncle's house."

Katara shut up immediately.

Continuing as though she wasn't going through an emotional crisis in the seat beside him, Zuko continued, "My father conned him out of his half of the company, so instead of running it together, my dad got all of it. So now my uncle lives here and honestly, I think he likes it. It's much more of a community than where we come from. He makes dinner for his neighbors, and they watch his cats when he's away. So don't try to give me that bullshit. I sleep here three nights a week because I don't want my dad to beat the shit out of me again, so don't try to tell me where I belong, okay? You don't know as much as you think you know. There are a lot of things that aren't as cut and dry as you say."

"Okay," said Katara, unable to find real words.

"And maybe it would benefit you to not be such a baby about where you live," Zuko continued. "Sure, it's not a big house or anything, I get that. But it's yours, right? Or I mean ... your family's. You got to have pride in that."

He was running out of steam, his shoulder's loosening from his ears, his chin dropping. The tone of his voice became less angry and fell more into the range of embarrassed, which Katara hadn't expected from him either.

"That's ... " she said, and settled on, "nice."

"Sure, cool," Zuko said. "Now just tell me where your house is."

Katara pointed and Zuko drove and neither one of them spoke until they got there. Katara was still trying to work out how Zuko was here, probably in this exact, eye catching car, and she'd never once noticed him. She was also working through all the rest of it, and didn't like the implications of what he'd said about his own personal life. Having sympathy for some punk douchebag wasn't what Katara wanted to do with her time. It made her uncomfortable. Well, generally having feelings of sympathy for people who she'd already written off as not deserving them made her uncomfortable, but this was even worse because he was being nice and giving her a ride home and that was already too much for her.

"It's this one," Katara said.

Zuko pulled up to the curb outside her house and stopped. He put the car in park, but kept the engine running. For a sudden, disastrous moment, Katara felt like this was the end of a date, and she had to make the decision to kiss him goodnight or not, but of course, that was crazy. It was the middle of the day and she had a split lip that was starting to throb. Also, there was no way in hell she was kissing Zuko. Ever.

"Think about it," Zuko said.

"Your offer of mob protection?" Katara said.

"Yeah, that." Zuko drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Just think about it. I'm not saying you need it because you can't look after yourself. I'm just saying, maybe you shouldn't have to do that."

It felt ... intimate in a way, and that made Katara instantly reach for the door handle. "Thanks," she said, her voice almost as gruff as his. "I'll think about it. And thanks for the ride home."

"Don't mention it," Zuko said. "I didn't want to go to class anyway."

Katara grinned and stepped out into the pouring rain, making a mad dash around the front of Zuko's car and up her steps onto the porch. She looked back before she opened the door and saw Zuko's silhouette in the rain-drenched car, his head bent as he lit another cigarette in the palm of his hand. Yellow light from his lighter spilled up his chin and nose. From this side, the scar was very visible, almost like a mask between him and the rest of the world.

Katara shook her head and went inside.


	5. Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a much slower story than others I've written, but by dint of genere, it's got to be kind of plotless and meandering so like ... be cool with that. There'll be fun and conflict and stuff, I swear, but it's gonna be all character and no plot, honestly.
> 
> But the real conflict is that I used a Journey song for the title and I do NOT like Journey (but yes, I know all the words, I'm not living under a rock).

Katara always knew when Sokka got home because he had a habit of opening doors like he was a whole stampede of zebra all by himself. This time, though, it was worse, because the thundering footsteps continued up the stairs and towards her room. "Katara?" Sokka yelled, slamming one fist into her door so hard the house shook. "Katara, are you in there?"

She leapt off her bed and rocketed the few feet to the bedroom door, yanking it open and only just barely avoiding Sokka’s fist as it swung in for another knock. "What do you want?" she snapped, glaring up at him. "Do you think we live in a barn, that you can come in like that, screaming and yelling? What's wrong with you?"

"Holy crap," Sokka said, fist still raised. "What's wrong with  _ you _ ?"

"Is she okay?" Aang called from downstairs. "Katara?"

"I'm fine!" She said it loudly for Aang's benefit, still glowering at Sokka. With the swollen eye, she wasn't sure if the glare was more or less intimidating, but she knew he probably didn't notice something like that. His mouth was half open. "Sokka's overreacting, Aang. Why didn't you get him to calm down?"

Aang, who walked so lightly he almost floated and therefore made no sound on the stairs, appeared in the doorway behind Sokka. "Oh, no," he said. "What  _ happened _ ?"

After a few hours with a frozen bag of peas plastered to her face, Katara had been starting to believe that her looks were improving a little bit, but apparently Sokka and Aang disagreed, by the looks of horror on their faces. She almost wished they could have seen her when she first got home, before she'd gotten all the clotted blood off her chin and out of her hair. Now everything was significantly less gross.

"I fell," Katara said, sticking her chin in the air.

"You  _ fell _ ?" Sokka planted his hands on his hips and leaned into her room, toes not quite crossing the threshold even as his entire upper body did. "You fucking  _ fell _ ? Where did you fall, down a cliff?"

"I fell down the stairs," Katara said, glaring at him. "No need to be a jerk about it, Sokka. I just tripped and fell and you're acting like it's the end of the world."

"It _was_ the end of the world!" Sokka yelled, which was unnecessary given that Katara was only about six inches from him. "You just disappeared in the middle of the day and then some weird girl I don't know came over to tell me that you'd gone home with some ... some senior boy? You, of all people? I didn't believe her at first. You've never cut class in your life!"

"I didn't want to go through the rest of the day looking like this," Katara said, waving her hand at her face. "It probably wouldn't be conducive to an educational environment."

"Oh, shut up," Sokka said. "Why didn't you come get  _ me _ ? Who was this guy?"

Katara swallowed and made herself meet Sokka's eyes. "Zuko drove me home. That was it."

" _ Zuko _ !" Sokka threw up his hands, nearly overbalancing and falling onto the floor of her room, catching himself just at the last moment. "You mean Scar Zuko? Weird guy, leather jacket Zuko?"

"Yes," Katara said. "He offered."

"Why the hell would you say yes?" screeched Sokka at the top of his lungs.

"Sokka, calm down." Aang, who still hadn't hit his puberty growth spurt, shoved his small frame in between Sokka and the doorway, making room for himself. He stepped over into Katara's room rather than try to share the space with Sokka, a move which Katara didn't  _ mind _ exactly but somehow felt like an invasion of her space. Maybe it was because of all the lying she was doing to the two of them right now. It didn't make her feel very good, but the truth would absolutely make things worse and if there was one thing that Katara was willing to lie for, it was other people's feelings.

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down, runt!" Sokka snapped, in exactly the kind of sibling-ish fashion he would have done to Katara. "Look at her! She looks like total shit and no one bothered to tell me?"

"I'm fine," Katara said, exasperated and annoyed that her vision was still seriously limited out of her black eye. "You're totally overreacting Sokka. Don't have a cow."

"What did he do?" Sokka asked.

"Who?"

"Zuko! What did he do to you?"

Katara let out a bark of laughter and then immediately slapped a hand over her mouth which hurt given that she's just hit herself in the lip again. She winced. "Sokka, you dipstick, he didn't  _ do _ anything to me except give me a ride home. What's wrong with you?"

"What, am I in trouble now for worrying about you?" Sokka folded his arms, his glare flipping from Katara to Aang. "And don't you defend her, you little brownnoser."

"Sokka, come on," Aang said, with the kind of calm-but-tied defense he put up against Sokka whenever there was an overreaction of this magnitude, which was often. "Look at her. Why are you yelling at her?"

"Because she did something stupid!" Sokka said, very loudly.

"Shhh!" Katara waved a hand, serving the duel purpose of attracting Sokka's attention and brushing away Aang's nervous fingers, which were getting too close to her bruises for comfort. "Do you want Gran-Gran to hear you?"

"She's at bingo," Sokka said, not without a little bit of pomposity for remembering something Katara had forgotten. "Maybe you should have thought about that. Besides, she's gonna be mad that you skipped and I'm going to tell her."

Katara gasped in real horror this time. "Sokka, you wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I?"

"Why, you little tattletale!" Katara took a step closer to Sokka, balling up her fist, ready for her second physical altercation of the day.

Aang got between them, his boney limbs sharp against Katara's ribs as he wedged himself between her and Sokka and pushed them away from each other. "Come on, guys, don't be like that," he said. "Aren't you two supposed to love each other? Isn't that what siblings do?"

"No!" said Sokka and Katara in perfect unison.

"Impossible," Aang said. "Sokka, I gotta talk to Katara."

And then he shoved his shoulder into Sokka's gut, and while Sokka stumbled into the hallway, closed the door quickly, putting his back to it.

Katara folded her arms.

Before Aang could say anything, Sokka's fist slammed into the door. "No boys in your room with the door closed!" he yelled — to be fair, that one was Gran-Gran's rule and applied to both of them in different contexts.

"He's fourteen!" Katara yelled back. "He's a child, and he basically lives here, don't be such a tool."

"I'm telling!" Sokka wailed and thudded off to his own bedroom.

"He won't," Aang said, though there was something in his face that was either sad or angry, Katara couldn't decide which because neither made sense in this conversation.

"I know he won't," Katara said, having never for a second thought Sokka was going to do anything apart from make a lot of noise. "It's his way of being worried."

"I'm worried too." Aang peered at her. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," Katara said, snappier than she'd meant to be. "I wish people would stop asking me that."

"But —” Aang started, reaching out.

Katara stepped back. "Stop it," she said, still more harsh than she intended but with exactly the right amount that she felt. "Don't touch it, you'll make it worse. I'll be alright, okay? Would you idiots stop worrying about me? Go do your homework."

Aang's face fell. "Okay," he said and opened the door.

As soon as he left, Katara closed it behind him and leaned against it. "Boys," she said to herself. "Why are they  _ like _ that?"

* * *

 

 "Why weren't you in fourth period today?" Azula asked casually, throwing her arm over the back of the couch.

Zuko, who'd hidden himself away in the downstairs "family" room that no one used for obvious reasons, glanced up from his book. "Skipped," he said.

"I heard a rumor you took a girl home," Azula continued, mouth curling. "Have a little fun?"

Trying to ignore her, Zuko turned a page. "As Mai's friend, shouldn't you be mad at me?"

"You two aren't  _ together _ together though," Azula said, though honestly Zuko thought the whole issue came down to the fact that Azula couldn't give two fucks about Mai's feelings. "I'm more interested in the fact that you apparently found some girl to bang in the middle of a school day."

"Yup," said Zuko, keeping his voice a perfect monotone. "You caught me. That's exactly what happened. How did you know?"

"Don't be such an asshole," Azula said. "Tell me!"

Zuko glanced up. Azula had her legs twisted up underneath her, head cocked to the side. Her hair fanned out in a ponytail from the top of her head, making her look bouncier and more girlish than she really was. She smiled like a demon and nudged him with one knee. "Come on, Zuko!"

"Shockingly, you're wrong." Zuko turned back to his book but didn't take in a single word on the page. "That's not what happened and you're an idiot. She was sick. I gave her a ride home. The end."

"You like a girl?"

"No," Zuko said with exaggerated patience, "I don't like her. I don't even know her, and what I do know, I don't like. She just ... fell."

"Oh, you mean the girl the prom queen beat the shit out of?" Of course Azula had heard about whatever violence was going on in the school, that checked out. "You drove  _ her _ home? Why? She's a loser."

"So am I, if you hadn't noticed," Zuko pointed out.

"Oh, no, I'd noticed." Azula's mouth twisted into something scornful and cruel that was so at home on her face that Zuko didn't even bother to get upset. This was just how Azula was, especially these days. He didn't need to ask her what had happened to harden her. He knew. They both knew.

"But," Azula said, stretching like a cat, her voice filling with mock sincerity, "I thought even you wouldn't stoop to pick up some girl who wasn't even good enough not to avoid getting messed up at school. Isn't that a little  _ delicate _ for you? Not your usual type."

"Are you implying that Mai isn't delicate?" Zuko said, finally giving up and closing his book.

"Mai is like, the opposite of delicate," Azula said, rolling her eyes.

Zuko privately agreed, though he was pretty sure that wasn't because Mai was actually tough, but because there wasn't enough humanity in there to actually bruise. He was becoming convinced that Mai, for all her fickleness, was actually some kind of robot made by her wealthy parents to substitute in for a flesh-and-blood child.

Or at least, that was the way Mai liked to come off.

"Well, as I've just been informed, I'm not  _ actually _ going with Mai," Zuko said, "so maybe you don't know what my type is."

"There is that," Azula said, "but I know everything."

This was the point in the conversation where Azula would start to get super annoying, so Zuko gave up. He half-turned away from her, opening the book again and deciding he wasn't going to make any more efforts to talk to her if she was going to be in full Queen Bitch mode.

"Oh yeah," Azula drawled, "and that weird girl you're friends with is on the phone."

Zuko threw the book at Azula, but she wasn't there anymore. Instead, she'd darted off the couch as soon as she spoke, already anticipating his actions. "Goddamnit, Azula," he yelled up the stairs as she ran, laughing, out of the family room, "could you be human for once in your life?"

After a minute of harsh breathing, he went and got the phone.

"What took you so long?" Toph demanded.

"Azula spent forever lecturing me before she told me you were waiting," Zuko said, slumping into the chair next to the basement phone and winding the cord around his hand. "You know how she is."

"She's probably going to try to listen in," Toph said. "Thankfully, she'll fail."

Zuko knew Toph was right about both parts, the first because Azula was incredibly nosey about business that wasn't hers, and the second because Toph had ears like a bat and would probably be able to hear even the quietest of clicks, like a handset being picked up. Given that that was how this always went — Azula tried, Toph caught her, Zuko yelled — he wasn't worried about her listening in. Thankfully.

"What's up?" Zuko said, slumping back into his armchair. 

"You owe me," Toph said.

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Toph was the kind of person who always kept track of who owed her what, and Zuko was always in the red. "What do you want?"

"Details."

"There aren't any."

The noise Toph made was so loud and disgusted that Zuko pulled the phone away from his ear, wincing. "Don't be a fucking dickhead!" she said, still at about sixteen times normal volume. "You  _ owe _ me!"

"Dweeb," Zuko said.

"You can call me whatever the hell you want, but that doesn't change the fact that you took some girl home in the middle of the day and you're saying there are  _ no details _ !" Toph ended on a screech.

"Fine!" Zuko leaned back into the chair. "This prep got beat up by her shitty friends and she hid in my smoking spot, so I took her home so she wouldn't bother me. That's it."

"That sounds like bullshit," Toph said.

"It's not." And it wasn't, Zuko justified to himself. That was exactly what had happened, though only in the broadest of strokes. He'd only left out ... well, most of the major details.

"That sounds like a nice thing that you did there," Toph said with that unpleasant condescension that she was prone to. "And I know you, Zuko. You don't do nice things."

"Maybe I've turned over a new leaf," Zuko argued. "Maybe I'm nice now."

"You're not." Toph snorted. "Don't be an idiot. Is she hot?"

"Excuse me?"

"Stop shouting." Toph was laughing now and Zuko really didn't appreciate it. "She is, isn't she."

"Well, she had a black eye and a split lip, so no, in all honesty, she wasn't all that hot." Zuko huffed. "Why can't you just let things go, Toph?"

"Because you made me go talk to some jock because you were  _ stealing his sister _ ." Toph was sniggering down the line and that made everything worse. "I really hope she was choice or this was all for naught."

"She was _ in distress _ ," Zuko insisted. "And in my way. It was the easiest way to get her out of my life." He didn't mention that he'd offered to keep an eye on her. In fact, now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure why he'd done that. It wasn't like he cared what happened to some dumb popular girl. But she'd just looked so  _ pissed _ . And yes, her boyfriend  _ had _ tried to stab him once, but that was in the past and besides ... he respected the anger in her. It was familiar.

"In distress," Toph said, pitching her voice higher in mockery. "Hot distress?"

"Would you shut up about her being hot?" Zuko snapped. "I'm taken."

"By Mai?" Toph let out a loud "HA!" that would have sounded fake on anyone else but Toph had never once been fake in her whole life. "Please, Zuko. That bitch —”

"Hey, don't talk about my girlfriend like that," Zuko said without much heat behind it.

Toph started cackling. She didn't say anything, just laughed with increasing hysteria until she had to pull the phone away from her face and the laughter became muffled and far away.

"Wow," Zuko said blandly, "way to respect my relationship."

"Look, I get it," Toph said, gasping for breath as her voice returned to the phone. "I totally get it. She's ... okay, no, I don't get it, she had no redeeming qualities.  _ But _ I get that you want that to work out, given that she's your sister's friend and all. She's one of us, or whatever. I don't know if that's important to you, but my dad says it all the time, so it must be. Thought you were better than that, but that's chill, I get it."

"Fuck you, Toph," Zuko said, rubbing his eyes.

"Sure, whatever, anyway." Toph clicked her tongue against her teeth, the sound harsh against the speaker. "So dump Mai and go out with What's Her Name. What's the problem?"

"I drove her home because she got beat to shit," Zuko growled. "Since you're so intent on being a big fat idiot, though, I'm going to hang up."

"Wait!"

Zuko, who hadn't even moved to hang up, waited.

"What  _ is _ her name?" Toph asked.

"Katara."

"Katara?" He could almost hear the gears turning. "Wait, didn't her boyfriend try to stab you?"

"That's the one."

Toph started laughing again. "You're demented," she giggled. "You're totally demented!"

And then she hung up on him.

Zuko returned the phone to the cradle and resolved to get better friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I've cast myself as Toph and I refuse to apologize for that. She is the worst friend and will continue to be the worst friend. I feel that's pretty in character.


	6. Hit Me With Your Best Shot

 Suki plunked her tray down across from Katara, flopping onto the table's bench seat like a sack of russet potatoes. "Hey, quick question," she said, looking over Katara's shoulder, "why is Scar Zuko staring at you?"

Katara tried to sink deeper into her own shoulders. She'd been trying to avoid Zuko for the last week, even going so far as to turn around when he came towards her in the hall, but apparently it wasn't working. It wasn't like she was upset with him or anything, she told herself for the third time. It wasn't. But his offer had unnerved her. She didn't understand why he would make it, and not understanding something was Katara's greatest weakness.

So she ignored him.

"He's probably not," she told Suki without looking around. "He's probably just staring sorta in this direction."

"He's not," Suki said, leaning around Katara's shoulder to stare back. "He's definitely looking at you. Oh, wait, now he's looking at me. Now he's pointing to you. I think he wants me to get your —”

Katara grabbed the sleeve of Suki's jacket and yanked her back out of Zuko’s eyeline. "Would you cut that out?" she snapped, ducking her head so her chin was almost on the table as she leaned over it towards Suki. "Now you've done it."

Suki was laughing. "Oh, come on," she said, grinning from ear to ear. "Don't be like that."

Katara started to rethink her decision to sit with Sokka and his friends. After a week of hiding and eating alone, her pride just hadn't been worth it anymore. Especially since everyone was staring at her sunrise eye anyway. If she kept hiding, they'd only think she was scared or embarrassed, which she was, but she couldn't let anyone else know that.

On the other hand, the problem with Sokka's friends, especially Suki, was that they had no sense of appropriate subtlety in any situation, especially one like this.

"Okay, okay!" Suki held her hands up, palm first, but didn't raise them because Katara was clutching her sleeves. "I won't look at him, even though he already knows that you know. If you wanna play your little emotional games, that's fine. Just tell me why he's being all weird."

"Okay, fine." Katara could feel Zuko's gaze digging into her back, but she ignored it. "So when I ... fell."

"Got the shit beaten out of you, yes."

Katara pouted.

"Don't be such a priss," Suki said. "Everyone knows what happened. There's no need to pretend at this point."

"Sokka —”

"Look, if Sokka thought he could get away with kicking the stuffing out of a bunch of girls, he would have done it already," Suki said, flipping her hair off her shoulder, a move she often made when Katara's brother came up. Katara stowed that information away for later. "Anyway, stop changing the subject."

"I didn't —”

Suki grinned.

"You're so annoying," Katara grumbled, putting her chin down on the lunch table. "You're just like Sokka, I swear, you two are like shitty clones."

"Sure, whatever," Suki said, waving a hand. "Keep talking."

" _ Anyway _ ," Katara said, stressing the word unnecessarily, "Zuko drove me home after and  _ kinda _ offered to like ... be my bodyguard."

"Your  _ what _ ?"

"I didn't say yes!" Katara said quickly. "I turned him down."

"Is he in the mob or something?" Suki leaned around Katara's shoulder to stare at Zuko again. "He doesn't look like a mobster, but his family is super rich, so who knows. You think he's ever killed someone?"

"Suki!"

Suki laughed, a big, bubbling sound that made people look at them, which was exactly what Katara didn't want. And yet, here she was being mocked because of something she didn't even do. Great. Fantastic.

"But seriously," Suki said, her laughter ceasing almost as soon as it started, in an amazing snap of silence, "is he in the mob?"

"Look at him," Katara said flatly, not turning to do so herself. "Do you think a mobster would dress like that?"

"I don't know how mobsters dress," Suki said. "I'm not in the mob."

Katara rolled her eyes. "I don't think he's in the mob," she said, "but I do think he probably goes to underground punk shows and beats people up at them."

"Great!" Suki clapped her hands, grinning. "That's perfect! Exactly the kind of person who should be watching your back if you're going to keep getting yourself into all kinds of trouble."

"It's not  _ all kinds _ ," Katara protested. "It's just one kind of trouble."

"The popular girl kind," Suki said, nodding sagely. "I've heard that's rough. They're vicious, you know. Come at you from behind, won't give you any time to get ready for them. No honor."

"Honor?" Katara said, slightly strangled. "Didn't you hit someone with a lacrosse stick?"

Suki rolled her eyes. "You do that one time and people never let it go. Yeah, I hit her with the stick, but you know what? I had the goddamn decency to do it to her face. And she had a stick too, you know. She could have done ... something."

"Your excuse was that she was also armed?" Katara said, unable to stop the laugh that burbled up her throat.

"Well, I mean, yeah." Suki finally turned herself to her lunch tray and popped open her paper milk container. "What, you think I'm going to go at someone with a stick if she also doesn't have a stick? What kind of heinous behavior is that?"

"Alright," Katara said laughing. "You're better than the rest of us, I get it. But what's your point. What am I supposed to do with ... him?"

"I think you should start by turning around and acknowledging him because he's starting to look really pissed off," Suki said, glancing over Katara's shoulder. "Crusty punks have feelings too, Katara, and you're just trampling all over his."

And now Katara felt bad.

Suki grinned. "I'm kidding. He's probably an emotionless void. But the  _ who _ is not important here. The  _ what _ might be. You sure Hemah and those other preppy bitches are going to leave you alone from here on out? Or do you think this is going to keep happening?"

"You're asking me if I feel safe in my own school?" The answer was no but Katara didn't want to tell Suki that or she'd have all kinds of people clamoring to be her bodyguard. "I don't need some big strong man to protect me."

"Oh, so Scar Zuko is big and strong now?" Suki smirked.

Katara pursed her lips. "He is technically both larger and stronger than I am, Suki, stop trying to twist my words all around."

Suki rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

The bell rang and Katara jumped, then grabbed her books. Suki seemed not to care and just turned her attention to her plate, which had a shocking amount of food on it — here everyone else was dieting and Suki was eating enough for a herd of elephants. Athletes. Who could understand them?

"Think about it though," Suki said with her mouth full and her eyes somewhere behind Katara. "Think you might need the help."

"I don't, but thanks." Katara grabbed her books and her tray and got out of there as fast as she could.

She put the conversation out of her mind and focused on the day's lessons, and that worked well enough until ten minutes after the final bell when Hemah and her crew caught Katara taking a shortcut out of the side door. This time they didn't beat her up.

They just pushed her down a flight of stairs.

* * *

 

 Zuko was sprawled across Iroh's couch, reading his history textbook, when there was a tentative knock on the door.

Iroh was in the kitchen so Zuko dragged himself to his feet and adjusted his dark hair over his scar, so as not to scare whatever neighbor had come by. "I got it!" he yelled and pulled open the door.

"So, I thought about it," Katara said, looking up at him with grim determination, "and I'm going to take you up on that offer."

"Jesus H. Christ almighty," Zuko said, leaning against the doorframe, "what the hell happened to you?"

Katara glowered. There was a scrape down her jaw and scratches across there rest of her exposed skin — arms, shins, the toes of her flats. Blood had soaked through the shoulder of her blouse, staining the white fabric. She was dirty too, as though her clothing had protected her from more scrapes. Gravel was caught in her hair.

"How'd you know I'd be here?" Zuko asked.

"Your car is here," Katara pointed out. "It's not exactly subtle."

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

Katara's cheeks turned red, rich against her brown face. "I may have been convinced you were in the mafia."

Zuko raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, and I didn't know what to say, is that what you wanted to hear?" Katara folded her arms and winced. When she unfolded them, one of her scrapes was bleeding down the inside of her elbow. "Like, okay, thank you for offering, but it was still a weird offer, right?"

"And now it's less weird?"

Katara muttered something.

"What was that?" Zuko made an impressive show of cupping his hand to his ear. "Speak up, I can't hear you."

"I got pushed down the stairs, okay?" Katara snapped.

Zuko stopped teasing. A beat down in the girls bathroom was nothing to sneeze at. That was pretty messed up. But pushing someone down stairs? That was how someone got really hurt. Stairs didn't wince when they hit someone. Stairs didn't pull their punches. In fact, looking her over again, Zuko was surprised that Katara was in as much of one piece as she was.

"Come in," he said and stood away from the door.

Iroh was in the kitchen, singing to himself — loudly — and Zuko yelled, "Uncle Iroh, I'm going to my room — Katara'scomingwithmeokaybye!"

He tried to shoo Katara up the stairs before Iroh managed to figure out what he had said, but of course that didn't pan out the way he was hoping. Katara's tumble down the stairs had given her a limp — he could see flashes of scraped knee through a rip in her pants. Normally he wouldn't have begrudged that but Iroh was quick and he was too smart to be distracted by anything for too long, despite his usual lackadaisical attitude.

Sure enough, before Katara's ankles disappeared into the upstairs hall, Iroh was out of the kitchen. "What was that?" he said, eyes shining.

"Uh," Zuko managed.

He'd never had to lie to a parental figure before. His dad didn't care. When it had come to Mai — who obviously had never come to Iroh's house ever — he'd just walked in with her and didn't care. What his father thought was either nothing, or smirking. Hell, for a while when things were good, she was staying over three nights a week and no one said anything.

Katara turned around and said, in a bright voice that didn't seem quite her own, "Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know anyone was home."

She came back down the stairs a little, forcing Zuko to get out of her way, and bent down a little to look at Iroh from between the banisters. "Hi there, Mr .... um?"

"Iroh is fine," Iroh said, his eyes nearly glowing now.

"Mr. Iroh," Katara said with peppy firmness. She stuck a hand through the railing to shake his hand. "I'm Katara, I'm a friend of your nephew."

Iroh shook the hand but he was looking at Zuko the whole time. "Are you really?"

"Yes, sir," Katara chirped brightly. She was doing a pretty good job of keeping the scraped side of her face away from Iroh but it was only a matter of time.

"Zuko, let this poor young lady come downstairs so she may introduce herself properly," Iroh said and Zuko, with great trepidation, got out of Katara's way.

Katara squared her shoulders and moved somewhat stiffly down the stairs. She kept her arms behind her back as she got back onto solid ground, which did hide the worst of her injuries, but the face was still visible. And the hair.

Iroh's eyes widened. "Are you alright, my dear?"

"Oh, this?" Katara touched her cheek and didn't even flinch. She laughed like a game show host and said, "I'm just fine, Mr. Iroh. Silly me, just had a tumble down some stairs at school today." She glanced at Zuko. "Did Zuko not tell you about the tutoring program?"

"The what?" Iroh asked, still looking at Zuko who couldn't figure out what facial expression to fake because he had no idea what Katara was talking about.

"Oh! Well, you see, we've got a new tutoring program between students," Katara said brightly. Her tone was so sugary it made Zuko's teeth hurt. "And I'm here to give Zuko just a little bit of a push for his literature grade, just to keep it right up there so he can make sure he graduates well. It's very important to keep those grades up in senior year, you know, because there's often such an impulse to let them slump."

"Is that so?" Iroh said and Zuko honestly couldn't tell if he was buying it or not.

"Absolutely, sir," Katara said, locking her hands behind her back like a child. "And, well, we've got room at the school to do it of course, but since I live just down the street, we thought it would be a good idea for us to meet up here and that way we can have a little peace and quiet to work in."

Iroh looked Katara up and down. Zuko knew from great experience that he saw everything about her, from the scrapes and bruises she was trying to hide, to the neatness and style of her before she'd taken her little tumble, to, possibly, the intricacy of the lie she was spinning. 

When he'd tallied it all up, he smiled. "That is very kind of you, Miss Katara."

Katara, of all things, blushed. "Um, thank you, sir. It's my pleasure to be able to help other students. I know it can be hard to focus on school when you're so close to being done. I'm still a junior, but my brother is a senior and I've seen how hard he has to work to focus on making sure his grades stay up while also doing extracurriculars."

"Yes, Zuko, she's right, don't you think?" Iroh said.

Zuko, who was starting to get a bad feeling about all of this, said, "Sure."

"You don't want to study down here?" Iroh said.

"Uh," Zuko managed, panicking.

"If it's all right, sir, I find it's better to study in the quietest and most comfortable place possible," Katara said. "Thank you for the offer, but it's probably better if we stay out of your way as well. I don't want you to feel trapped in your own house. Don't worry, we'll leave the door open. Obviously there won't be anything but studying going on, but just to make you feel better."

Iroh smiled. "Of course, dear. Zuko, if you're studying, you'd better make sure you get that textbook you left on the couch, don't you think?"

Zuko screamed internally. "Oh, yeah. Right."

"What would you have done without that?" Katara said, still sugary. "Thank you, Mr. Iroh."

"You two go on," Iroh said turning away a little but not fully. "Don't let me disturb you."

Zuko shot Katara a death glare and she said, "Yes, sir!" as quickly as possible and rocketed up the stairs as though her legs were just fine.

Zuko pointed her to his little bedroom and peeled off briefly to the bathroom, filling Iroh's small windowsill watering can with hot water and bringing it with him. As soon as he was inside, he closed the door behind him, sagging against it in relief.

"I told him —” Katara started.

Zuko scowled and crossed the room to his messy burough. "I'm not a fucking middle schooler," he said. "My uncle isn't worried about me losing my virginity to some nice girl-next-door type while pretending we're studying. But thanks for worrying about protecting my honor."

"What kind of parent —?" Katara started.

"Well, he's not actually my parent," Zuko said, feeling the lie of it on the back of his tongue, "and also I don't have any honor to protect."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Katara snapped.

He just stared at her.

"Oooooh," she said, her face turning bright red all the way to her hairline. "You mean ... oh."

Zuko snorted. "That was impressive though. I don't know if I've ever heard someone lie that much all at once."

"Parents love me," Katara said, pulling off her shoes and placing them neatly on the floor. One of her pinky toes was blue with bruising. "I've got that effect on people."

"Must be nice." From his sock drawer, Zuko pulled a bottle of iodine, a handful of gauze, and adhesive bandages, all of which were too small for Katara's injuries. "Parents fucking hate me."

Katara rolled her eyes. "I wonder why."

"You know, if you're going to be bratty, I don't  _ have  _ to help you not get the shit kicked out of you," Zuko pointed out, gesturing with his iodine bottle. "And I don't  _ have _ to patch you up. You can walk home for all I care."

"I can do it." Katara reached out for the bottle.

Zuko snatched it away from her. "Absolutely not," he said. "That's how I get big orange stains all over my sheets."

"Yes, I'm sure stained sheets is going to really throw off your cleanliness groove in here," Katara muttered, glancing around at the mess in the room. Then she must have realized what she'd said and her face twisted in embarrassment and horror.

Zuko smirked.

"Oh, gross!" She stood up so fast Zuko thought she might rocket straight through the ceiling. "Come on, I was sitting —”

"Don't have a cow, you ditz," Zuko said. "These sheets are fine. My girlfriend would never stoop to coming over to this part of town."

"Girlfriend" sounded so wrong in his mouth, but he didn't know what else to call Mai.

Katara slowly lowered herself back onto the bed. "She sounds like a real winner."

"Yeah," Zuko said, finding a clean hand towel and dumping the water all over it. He knelt down in front of Katara, who tilted her chin up and away from him so he could get at her face and begin the laborious process of cleaning the scrape out. "She's a real bitch."

Katara snorted. "So why are you dating her?"

There was gravel caught in the wounds and Zuko had to spend a good amount of time getting it out. Katara's jaw tightened but she didn't make any sound of pain or discomfort, which was impressive. As he cleaned, he thought about the question and couldn't manage a decent answer.

"I don't know," he said finally. "I like her?"

"Do you? You don't sound very sure."

"Why are you so interested?" he said, snappier than intended. "Are you angling for the job?"

"Ew," Katara said.

"Wow." Zuko sat back on his heels and looked her face over, trying to find anything else that needed to get out of the wound. "That's nice. That's what I'd say to a guy who was cleaning stair dirt out of my face too. Real good idea."

Katara made a face. "Oh, come on. You know what I mean. You're not into me and I'm not into you and that's kind of the end of it. It just wouldn't make sense, now would it."

"Why not?" Zuko said, though he privately agreed with her. He just wanted to figure out what  _ her _ reasoning was and see if it lined up with his.

"I mean, look at you."

"Hey, I'm not the one who keeps getting in fights at school."

Katara looked down and it was, Zuko realized, the first time he'd seen her look like she was actually upset about all this. She'd been angry, sure, and maybe uncomfortable, but never sad. At least, he didn't think so. But now, her eyes softened and the angry twist of her mouth became melancholy. She picked at a rip in her pants above the knee. "It's not really much of a fight when it's a flight of stairs," she said bitterly. "I didn't really get to hit back."

Zuko shook his head. "You know what I mean," he said with as much brusqueness as he could and that seemed to jolt Katara out of her thoughts because her eyes regained their normal angry shine. "I'm just saying, if you go by looks, I look more like a goodie two shoes and you look like some kind of ... hooligan."

"Hooligan?" Katara said, grinning. 

God help him, he was starting to  _ sound _ like Iroh too. "Alright, well you come up with the words if you're so smart." He finished with her face and said, "Arm."

"I can do it."

"Sure, whatever. Arm."

Katara put out her arm.

"But what you're actually saying is that no one would ever mistake us for a couple because we're not ... the same kind of people." Zuko nodded. "Your friends wouldn't like me, my friends wouldn't like you."

"Basically," Katara said. "Also, you wouldn't hang around with me because of the same reason your girlfriend doesn't come out to this part of town."

"I'm hanging around you now," Zuko said, swabbing more gravel and dirt out of a gash on Katara's forearm.

"Under duress," Katara said. "I'm the one who's supposed to follow some yuppie around for his money, right?"

"Yuppie?" Zuko said, strangled.

"Okay, future yuppie."

"That's the worst thing anyone's ever said to me," Zuko said, dunking the towel back into the water to wash off the grime it had accumulated, then starting again. "I take everything back. You can get yourself killed for all I care."

Katara flipped him the bird with her free hand.

Zuko snorted. "Who taught you that, your brother?"

"You know my brother?" Katara asked.

"Of course I know your brother." Zuko moved on to her elbow, which looked more like ground beef than human flesh. "You might need to go to the hospital to get this checked out."

"No," Katara said firmly and Zuko didn't push. "How do you know Sokka?"

"Everyone knows him," Zuko said. "He's basically high school royalty. Which is why you bitching about not fitting in because you're poor is so fucking stupid."

"No, it's different." Absently, Katara rolled up her sleeve so Zuko could work better. Where it wasn't bruised or scraped, her skin was rich and warm like well oiled oak. "Sokka has a skill. He proved himself to them to get his spot. I'm not like that. I don't get to just hang on to his coat tails just because we're related. I have to prove myself too."

"Is that why you're so stubborn?" Zuko asked. She kept twitching away from his cloth so he wrapped one hand around her upper arm to steady her while he cleaned. Not that he could blame her — it probably hurt like a motherfucker and she was doing a pretty good job at keeping her cool. "Because you're trying to prove something?"

"I'm  _ not _ stubborn!" Katara snapped.

Zuko snorted.

After a moment, Katara said softly, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

The tone was odd, so he looked up at her. She was watching him, her eyes shadowed like a stormy ocean. There it was again, that melancholy and sadness that he couldn't quite square with the anger she seemed intent on displaying almost all the time.

"Because you look like hell, Katara," he said truthfully and she wrinkled her nose. "What kind of monster would I be if I just sent you home looking like this?"

"Are you always an asshole?" she asked.

"Yes." He looked back at her scrapes again, then started on the other arm. "One hundred percent of the time, so don't expect anything pleasant out of me, all right?"

Katara muttered something under her breath that Zuko chose not to try to catch.

"Why do you hate your girlfriend?" she asked.

"Hey, whoa now." He yanked her arm a little harder than he intended and she winced. "Sorry. But I absolutely didn't say I hated my girlfriend and I don't want to be taken out of context like that."

"What's her name?" Katara said.

"Mai."

Her lips pursed. "Oh. The girl with all the eyeliner?"

"Yes."

"Huh. I would have thought ..." She trailed off. "Nevermind, I guess it makes sense."

"What?"

"She just doesn't seem like she likes a lot of people," Katara said carefully. "But I guess you don’t either, so I get it."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "It's not like that. She's ... you know. Nice. Deep down."

"But you said she was a bitch."

He couldn't deny that. "Okay, look, Mai and I have been going out since freshman year and it's kind of on-and-off, okay? Like, sometimes it's fine and sometimes it's not and that's just how it is, okay? Sometimes she dumps me and sometimes I dump her and we get back together. Whatever."

"So if she's a bitch," Katara said slowly, "I'm guessing you're 'off' right now."

"So what?" Zuko said.

"So nothing." Katara shrugged, pulling her arm away from him, which was fine because he was done. He turned to get the iodine. "I just mean," Katara continued, examining her now clean scrapes, "that maybe you should find someone who doesn't hate you fifty percent of the time. That seems like step one in a girlfriend."

"Oh, because you're so knowledgeable?"

"Look, I had a perfectly fine relationship before he went crazy and tried to stab you," Katara said, sticking her nose in the air. "And anyway, just because I'm younger than you doesn't mean — ow! That stings."

"Yes, it does," Zuko said, applying the cloth with the iodine to her arm. "But it's clean."

"But is it worth it?" Katara grumbled.

"Yes, it's worth it," Zuko told her in a growl. "I promise you, I've gotten more injuries than you ever will and it's a pretty good idea not to get an infection and gangrene and then your arm will fall off."

Katara fell silent and it took Zuko a moment to realize that she thought he meant the scar. But he couldn't tell her that wasn't what he'd been talking about at all. It would sound weird if he tried to justify it.

"You gotta learn to defend yourself," he said instead.

"What would you recommend?" Katara said acidically. "Kung fu?"

"Not a bad idea."

She rolled her eyes. "I was kidding."

"I wasn't."

"Whatever."

Zuko pulled out gauze and some tape and began applying a bandage to her arm. She was being very good about holding still, which continued to impress him. "At this point, anything you can do to stop yourself from getting hurt would be good," he said. "I'm fine being a bodyguard, but a doctor isn't really my favorite."

"Oh yes, I'm sure you have so much time to play doctor."

He looked up at her.

"Not like  _ that _ ," she said, strangled, and that was close to the first time she'd tried to pull away from him. But he was laughing too much to continue working on her arm anyway and sat back on his heels.

"Okay," she said after a minute, glowering. "So you are an asshole. I get it and I'll stop questioning it."

Zuko managed to control himself enough to tape the rest of her arm and pull out another piece of gauze for her jaw, which was still red and raw. Gravel had drawn long trails down her skin and the blood clotting there made her look tough and worldly, two things he knew she wasn't.

"This one's really going to hurt," he said and applied to iodine to her face.

If he didn't have his hand cupped around her jaw, he wouldn't have noticed it clenching. Her eyes unfocused slightly, fixed at a point in mid air somewhere over Zuko's head. Otherwise, though, Katara didn't react. 

"Do you need to squeeze my hand?" he asked, because he knew it would get a rise out of her.

"I thought you were quiet before this," Katara said through clenched teeth, not looking at him as he carefully sponged at her wounds. "Now I just wish you'd learn when to shut up."

Grinning, Zuko finished and applied the gauze, then the tape to Katara's face. "There," he said, looking critically at his work. "Now you look like a mummy."

"Charmer," she grumbled.

"Unlikely." Zuko groaned as he got up and settled himself on the bed a foot and a half from her. Sure, he'd literally tended her wounds, but that didn't mean he wanted to touch her. Actually, it was more that she didn't want him to touch her; she was still one big spot of tension. "So what's your plan?"

"What do you mean?"

"For your protection."

"Isn't that your job?"

He shook his head. "For now, sure. But at some point, it's going to have to be yours too. I'm only going to be here for another year and then I graduate. Where will you be then if you don't learn a couple of tricks?"

She pouted. "I hope they'll forget by next year. Wouldn't it be crazy for them to hang on to their pettiness for so long?"

"Have you met a girl?"

Her face fell. "All right."

"I can teach you," he said, again offering her something for nothing and stunning himself by the ation. "It's not like I haven't been in fights before. Maybe I can help you help yourself."

"Just what I need," she said, not looking at him but instead at the couple of band posters on his walls — Iroh had insisted on giving the room some personality. "Some delinquent teaching me how to fight."

"It's that or getting beat up." He poked one of her bandages and she yelped. "I can tell you which one I'd chose."

Katara rubbed her arm, glaring. "All right, fine. Is that what this is going to cost me?"

"Cost you?" He blinked, surprised. "Why would this cost you anything? I'm offering you more help."

Katara's eyes narrowed to little suspicious slits of blue. "No one does things for me from the goodness of their heart," she said. "At least, no one like you?"

"Like me?" Zuko leaned back on his hands and watched her, wondering how such a nice girl had gotten so cynical and bitter, and how she'd hidden it so well. "You're still on that rich kid thing? When you're sitting in this room?" He waved his hands around the small bedroom, indicating more than just the room, but also the house, the neighborhood, everything that would be more familiar to Katara than the mansion he'd grown up in.

"Are you telling me," Katara said quietly, "that you think your rich friends would hang out with you if you weren't one of them? You think they'd do something for you without expecting anything in return?"

She had him there.

The silence went on too long and became awkward. Katara fiddled with the edge of some of the tape around her arm and Zuko watched her fingers. Outside, a car passed and a couple of kids yelled down the block, the chains of bikes jingling.

"I should go home," Katara said, getting up so fast Zuko almost fell over.

"Iroh will want you to stay for dinner," Zuko said, collecting himself and getting up too. "He wants to feed everyone who comes in his door."

"Maybe another time," Katara said in that tone of voice one used when they meant “never in a  million years”. "I have to make sure my brother and Aang eat something that actually takes effort to prepare, instead of something they find in the back of the fridge."

"Isn't that your mom's job?" Zuko said, raising an eyebrow.

Katara glowered at him, though this time he really didn't know what he'd done wrong.

"Okay, fine." He opened the door for her and let her pass. She turned towards the stairs immediately, going more quickly than he would have anticipated — may she just really wanted to get out of the house. "I'll walk you home."

She turned around. "No! Don't."

Zuko stopped in the middle of the stairs, surprised. "What, ashamed to be seen with me?"

Standing below him in the entryway, Katara looked smaller than usual, somewhat folded in on herself, but she still held her chin up and looked at him as though she was ready to take him in a fight.

"This is my home," Katara said. "Needing a bodyguard at school is one thing, but not here. I don't want to have to have someone following me around to make sure I get home okay. The people here will do that for me."

Zuko froze.

"Thanks anyway," she said, and opened the front door without saying goodbye.

Zuko stared after her, shaking his head and muttering, "Idiot."

"So," Iroh said from the kitchen door, giving Zuko a serious heart attack. "Studying, were you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my last day of Zutara week and I wanted to get SOMETHING up. If you're interested in my other Zutara week artistic nonsense, check it out on my tumblr: grapefruittwostep.tumblr.com
> 
> This is also a hate letter to my childhood iodine pain (I was almost too late for it before hydrogen peroxide took over, but my mom is allergic so I had to get tested for it and there were some open wounds involved and it really sucked).


	7. You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for waiting while I didn't write a single goddamn word for the whole month of August, I was very tired. Here's a tiny little bone to throw you all.

"What happened to your face?" Hemah asked.

Katara nearly jumped out of her skin. She whirled around to face Hemah which put her back against her own just-closed locker. It wasn't how Katara wanted this to go down. She would much rather have been somewhere with an escape method, but no, of course she was trapped.

Hemah was smirking, which was a pretty petty move, even for her.

"I fell," Katara said acerbically. "You may have heard about it."

Hemah blinked innocently. "How would I have heard?" she said sweetly.

Katara's lip rose.

"I don't really keep up with girls ... like you," Hemah continued, flipping teased hair out of her face. "Sorry."

"Interesting," Katara said blandly, though she raised her book and pulled it against her chest as though that would stop Hemah from hitting her again. "Then why are you talking to me now?"

Hemah opened her mouth to answer, a sneer twisting her pink lips.

"Is there a problem here?" Zuko said.

Katara only just managed not to jump when he spoke, but the other girls weren't so lucky. All three of them gasped and Sooyin even let out a little squeak of fear.

Unperturbed, Zuko leaned over Katara and put his forearm on her locker, right over her head. He didn't touch her, just leaned in close. He'd approached from Katara's left, which she thought might have been purposeful; when he pushed his hair out of his face with a near-casual gesture, the full force of his scar and twisted eye was turned on  Hemah and her cronies.

"Um," said Hemah, for the first time in Katara's memory at a loss for words.

Part of Katara wanted to yell at him that she had this, that he didn't have to be so  _ overbearing _ , but no, she'd asked him to do this and he was just complying with her wishes. Don't freak out, she told herself, maintaining eye contact with Hemah. Don't freak.

"I asked you a question," Zuko said, also watching Hemah.

"No problem," Hemah said and she, Sooyin, and Leri disappeared so quickly they left afterimages on the inside of Katara's eyelids.

Zuko hung there for a second, his body bent slightly towards Katara before pushing away. He wasn't usually particularly subtle about the way he dressed, but today was worse than usual — he had on a black leather jacket studded with industrial safety pins and his jeans were tucked into boots with a sole so thick they could probably withstand a nuclear bomb. 

"See," he said as though they'd been in the middle of a conversation. "That went great."

"Sure." Katara turned and started rifling through her locker, hiding her face. "Great. That's what I would call it."

Zuko leaned on the locker next to hers, crossing his arms. She could feel his eyes on her, but didn't turn to meet them. "What's with the attitude?" he said.

"I don't have an attitude."

He snorted. "You know, I have a little sister too. I know when someone's being a prissy brat."

"Charming."

His hand went for his pocket and the cigarettes she knew were there, but he didn't take them out. Katara got the right books and closed the locker again, finally forcing herself to look up at him. He was watching her, eyes narrowed but bright light slashes of sunlight. Other people would have looked away when caught staring, but he didn't bother. Instead, he met her gaze and raised his one eyebrow.

"Look, I know I wanted this," Katara said, "but I just hate feeling so powerless."

"Yeah, cool, whatever." Zuko rolled his eyes. "Look, there's your pride, I get that, but you can't do anything to fix that if you keep getting pushed around. So like, regroup and whatever. But don't let them fuck you up while you're doing it."

"That's deep," Katara said, stepping away from her locker. "Did your uncle tell you that?"

"Sometimes I'm not a total idiot," Zuko said, falling in beside her. "What class are you heading to?"

"History."

"Boring."

She cast a look up at him and was surprised to catch the ghost of a smile hanging around the corner of his mouth. "What am I supposed to do?" she snapped. "Just skip it?"

"I mean," he said, eyes flicking towards the ceiling, "that's what I do."

"And how are you doing with that?"

That little tiny curl of smile appeared and vanished, quick as a firefly. "Look, you know I don't  _ have _ to do this, right? Like, I could just let you get wrecked."

"You wouldn't!"

He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. As he did, his jacket opened enough for Katara to read his t-shirt: "Nazi Punks Fuck Off"

She raised an eyebrow. "They're going to expell you for profanity if you keep wearing that."

Zuko shrugged. "Fuck 'em."

Katara sighed. If she wasn't careful, she was going to get expelled too. What had she been thinking, to hang out with this walking trouble magnet? Or maybe that was her now, she thought, touching her chin which was now just scab. "It must be nice to be able to get away with so much," she said acerbically.

Zuko rolled his eyes. "Katara, you can get away with whatever you believe your can. Your problem is that you're too convinced you can't do shit. Maybe just lighten up?"

"I'm very light," Katara growled.

They'd reached her class and Zuko leaned against the wall in an effortless sprawl that didn't match the way his eyes flicked around the hall, constantly scanning. "Sure, you tell yourself that. I'll pick you up for next period. Wait for me, okay?"

"I'm not a little kid!" she snapped.

This time there was no smile when Zuko said, "Would you chill out and let me do what you asked me to do? You're gonna make my job harder if you decide to jet off on your own. That's how you get that."

And he poked her in the jaw.

Katara yelped, tears springing to her eyes — her face was still tender. 

Zuko smirked. "Go to class," he said.

Glaring, she did.

A couple of people in her class watched her oddly, in a kind of sideways way that she wasn't used to. There was some fear in those looks — they'd all come from people who had seen her out in the hall with Zuko. Katara tried to avoid their gaze and took up a seat at the side of the class, near the middle, in the most nondescript part of the room she could. It was better right now to be ignored.

When she came out again, Zuko was waiting, which she thought meant he'd probably skipped a class to make sure he was there before her. Maybe other people would have thought that was nice. Katara thought it was stupid.

But what was really interesting was the tiny girl standing next to Zuko, talking to him in an overly animated way, who Katara recognized as the blind girl Aang was friends with.

Katara stopped by the door, watching them across the hall. Zuko tilted his head towards the girl, his face softer than she'd seen it. Maybe it was because no one was actively looking at him — apart, of course, from Katara — and he thought he could get away with it, but the way he leaned slightly towards Toph, a little grin at the side of his mouth made his face different. He looked ... well, maybe not kind, Katara wasn't yet willing to go that far with him. But he looked pleasant.

But then he looked up and saw her and the smile disappeared.

"Katara," he said, beckoning her over. "This is Toph. Toph, this is the girl I was telling you about."

"The hot one," Toph said, nodding sagely.

Heat roared to Katara's face and she turned to look at Zuko. "I can't believe —” she started, outraged.

"I didn't, all right?" Zuko snapped before she could really get rolling. He wasn't blushing, which made her angrier, though she couldn't have said why. "Toph likes to rocket to conclusions." He glowered at Toph, who ignored it, given that she clearly couldn’t see it.

Toph shrugged. She leaned on her white cane and glanced in Katara's direction with sly eyes. Or maybe it was accidental and Katara was reading into it. She was too upset with what Toph had said.

"Toph," Zuko growled.

"What?" Toph was still smiling. She had a shockingly large amount of hair that sort of stuck up in a lot of odd directions. It made her look like Joan Jett, who Katara had only seen on posters in the dark little club downtown where all the people who dressed like Zuko and Toph went. 

"Toph, I swear, I will wreck you." Zuko flashed teeth at Toph, but it wasn't a smile.

Toph rolled her pale eyes, a practiced motion that still conveyed all of the attitude but had a certain oddness too it, as though it had been learned by rote. "Fine," she said. "He didn't say that. I mean, he didn't have to, but —”

"Toph!"

"Okay, God, keep your shirt on." Toph threw up her hands, the cane coming with them so Katara had to dodge out of the way of its flying tip. "He didn't say anything and I'm being a pain in the ass."

"Thank you," Zuko said. He looked back up at Katara, mouth a slashed line across his jaw. "You can't take anything she says seriously. Fucking with people is Toph's main source of entertainment. Ignore her."

"I will not be ignored," Toph insisted.

Katara, still keyed up but now with no reason to be upset, nodded without speaking because she didn't trust herself to not yell.

"What's your next class?" Zuko asked. Without looking, he put his hand on Toph's arm and she unselfconsciously took his hand, switching her cane to the other side. Katara looked at the hands for a second, then back at Zuko, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged.

"Biology," she said. "How long have you two known each other?"

"A long time," Zuko said. He readjusted Toph's hand so it was on his arm, her pale, square fingers bright against the leather of his jacket. "She's a big ass pain in the ass."

"He's the only one that's nice to me," Toph said, with casual bluntness where emotion should have been. "Most people don't wanna deal with the dumb blind girl. Also our parents are run in the same circles. It's pretty much the shits."

"Oh," Katara said.

"I would have left her behind," Zuko said, "but she hit me in the ankles until I told her I'd introduce you."

"Me?" That was enough to startle Katara out of her anger. "Why would you want to meet me?"

Toph shrugged as they navigated the crowd — walking through a hall three abreast was a difficult task. "Look, I gotta tell you, Zuko does a lot of dumbass shit, okay? But this one? This seems somehow even dumber than usual."

"Ah, friendship," Zuko said flatly, gesturing to the top of Toph's head, which came up to the middle of his chest. "It's such a rewarding relationship, where she insults me, and I take it like a bitch."

"Is she calling me dumb?" Katara asked, unsure of how to take this conversation.

"No, she's not," Zuko said. "Or she'd better not be."

"You're way too overprotective," Toph said. "I get that that's your whole point, but like, let the poor girl speak for herself a little bit."

Katara suddenly realized that she really didn't like being called a "poor girl" by a fourteen-year-old. It was strange, given the amount of time she spent with a different freshman, but Toph just seemed older than Aang. Not more mature, just harder and more rough around the edges, with none of Aang's wide-eyed innocence and childlike wonder. There was no wonder to Toph, just insults and eye-rolling.

"Being overprotective is my whole point right now," Zuko said. "Have you seen her face?"

"No," Toph said and waved her hand in front of her eyes. "I haven't."

Zuko muttered something under his breath and looked at Katara with a helplessness to his gaze that seemed very out of place. Between this and the insistence on cleaning her up, it was becoming clear that maybe Zuko had some other sides to him.

Which Katara then decided not to think about at all. She didn't need Zuko to be complicated, she reminded herself. She needed him to stop her from getting the shit beat out of her.

"Anyway," Toph said, shrugging, "I just wanted to get the lay of the land here, and you seem like you're more of a firecracker than I gave you credit for. Any time you want to learn to protect yourself instead of getting this big lunk to do it for you, let me know."

And then, in a blur of passing students and green flannel, she was gone.

"I'd ignore her," Zuko said, taking a step closer to Katara and shoving his hands into his pockets. "It's easier."

"She seems nice," Katara said flatly.

"She's not." Zuko shrugged. "But she's tough as nails and seriously, if anyone could show you how to kick some preppy bitch's ass, Toph's your girl."

"Um," Katara said as they turned a corner and she dodged a group of chattering freshmen who took one look at Zuko and scattered. "I mean, I don't necessarily doubt you, but she's ... ?"

"Blind, yeah, but she could kick my ass." Zuko shrugged. "Look, she  _ chose _ to go to public high school. You gotta understand who Toph is as a person."

Katara chewed the inside of her cheek and didn't respond. She was so lost in thought that she nearly walked past her classroom until Zuko caught her arm and pulled her back, out of the path of a tall senior boy and his smaller, angrier girlfriend who were fighting in the middle of the hall.

"Watch it," Zuko said, his fingers digging into her arm. He let go quickly and Katara rubbed her arm as he glared at her.

"I actually can handle myself, you know," Katara said. "I need you to stop me from getting kicked down a flight of stairs, not from walking into traffic."

Zuko snorted. "Prove it," he said, leaning against the doorframe, clearly waiting for her to go in.

She shoved past him.

"I'll see you after class," he called after her, but she ignored him, trying to keep her head down and hoping no one made any assumptions, because she didn't know if she could handle that.

* * *

By the third day of being escorted everywhere, it became clear that Katara wasn't going to be able to take this for very long.

Zuko didn't consider himself a particularly observant person, but even he could see how angry she was getting, her shoulders pressing in closer to her neck every time she saw him waiting. He didn't take it personally, though some part of his brain wanted to be hurt. It was easy enough to shake off though; Katara didn't have to like him and he didn't expect her too.

However, in what he considered good news, she hadn't acquired any more bumps or bruises, so at least his job was going fine.

He fell in beside her without speaking, sensing that she wouldn't take well to it. It was hard to find the right words to comfort her when he knew that his very presence was a reminder of her own failing. That he could understand, he thought, just barely stopping himself from obsessively touching his scarred face. 

It was the end of the day and Zuko leaned against the locker next to Katara's while she silently deposited the books she didn't need. He watched her mouth, the purse of her lips, pale against her brown face. Part of him — the nice part, he supposed — wanted to ask her what was wrong, but he knew. And besides, being nice wasn't part of this plan.

But after a second of watching wrinkles form under her eyes as her glare deepened, he couldn't help himself. "Okay, so, am I that bad?" he said.

"What?" Her head snapped around towards him, eyes widening.

"Your face is gonna get stuck that way," Zuko said, turning so his back was against the locker instead of his shoulder. He kept watching her, raising one eyebrow. "I'm not a bad smell, you know."

"It's not you," Katara snapped.

"It's just ... ?"

"What you represent," Katara said.

He sighed. He'd known that, he really had, but it was hard to watch her face tighten up every time she saw him and not feel like shit about himself. "What are you going to do about it?"

She slammed the locker shut. "Nothing," she said. "What can I do?"

"Giving up probably isn't your only choice," he said blandly, even though she sounded just like his own arguments against standing up to his father. "Maybe you should consider —”

"Consider what?" There was venom in her voice as she whirled on him, text books clutched to her chest. "What do you want me to do, suddenly get some friends to watch my back and hurt my enemies like Hemah has? Or should I just become some kind of Bruce Lee wannabe so I can throw around flying kicks and get rid of girl bullies that way? Maybe I should just get Sokka's help instead, huh?"

"That's not —” Zuko started.

"No, that's exactly what you meant." Katara's voice was rising and people were looking at them, the exact opposite of what Zuko wanted. "You want me to just be stronger and cooler and better, just like they want. That's what  _ everyone _ wants from me. I'm not an idiot. I know I'm not tough like Toph is. I know I can't scare people off just by glaring at them like you. I'm not that kind of person, okay? And I'm okay with that. I have a lot of other things going on that don't involve my high school reputation as a badass."

"Jesus H. Christ, Katara, I didn't say that," Zuko snapped. People were absolutely staring now and he didn't want them to, for her sake if not for his.

"That's exactly what you want!" Katara said, still too loud. "That's what everyone wants! For me to not make any kind of noise, to keep my head down, to be what they expect me to be. For you, that's stronger and tougher. For my brother, that's more like my mother. For Hemah and her gang of harpies, that's a meek little lamb that just does what they tell me to do. For Jet, that was ... God, I don't even know anymore, probably just someone to agree with him. And I'm not that! I'm not strong and I'm not quiet and I'm not everyone's caretaker! I'm just me, and I'm just  _ so goddamn tired _ ."

And the only thing Zuko could think was,  _ Goddamnit, Toph's right. She  _ is _ hot. _

Which was a startling realization that he didn't particularly want to be having.

Katara was breathing hard, staring at him with her books still pressed to her chest. Her eyes were wide and slightly wild, white showing all around her blue irises. It was only now that her cheeks were beginning to turn red as people turned to stare.

Zuko took pity on her. "Come on, I'll drive you home."

"Sokka will —”

"Just don't argue with me for once, okay?" Zuko said. "People are staring and I'll get you a milkshake."

"I'm not a little kid," Katara said.

"Never said you were."

She glared. "I bribe Aang with milkshakes when he's being bratty, I know what's going on here."

He sighed and tried not to stare too much at the brightness of her cheeks, which was kind of a good look for her. And the fact that he was thinking that was bad news, so he decided to stop.

"Look," he said, more quietly than she had been, more of a hiss than actual speech, "you don't wanna take care of anyone, let me take care of you. That's what the whole point of this deal is, isn't it? So let me do it."

She scowled.

It was all Zuko wanted to do to drag her out of here and throw her into his car so people would  _ stop looking  at them _ , but obviously he couldn't do that to her. She'd probably punch him in the mouth, and he'd deserve it.

"Please," he said between gritted teeth.

She paused and looked at her feet. "Fine. But you're paying."

And that was enough for Zuko at the very least.

The only problem was that on the way out the door, they literally walked into her brother.

"Oh, hey Sokka," Katara said, unfazed.

Zuko, however, was entirely fazed. It wasn't that he had any reason to dislike Sokka. It was odd, given the stereotype, but Zuko didn't have much of a problem with Sokka or his clique of jocks. They were a cool bunch. Dumb, but good natured. And they didn't seem to have a lot of time to devote to shitting on Zuko's crowd.

But on the other hand, Zuko hadn't ever dealt with him while standing next to his baby sister.

Sokka stood just outside the front door, early autumn sun flashing on his hair. He didn't look happy.

"Katara," he said, folding his arms, but he looked at Zuko the whole time.

"Hey, Zuko's going to give me a ride home," Katara said blithely, which Zuko wasn't feeling at all. "You go on with Aang and I'll be back soon."

"I don't think so," Sokka said. He was about Zuko's height and so could look him right in the eye, but was also much broader in the shoulders and chest, built to hit like a truck. It wasn't like Zuko didn't know what Sokka was capable of, since he'd had to suffer through a couple of football games in his high school career. And he'd agreed to intimidate some rich girls for Katara, not to beat her brother up. This was going to get bad fast.

"Sokka, don't be an idiot," Katara said, sounding annoyed. "There's no need for —”

"I just don't think it's a good idea for you to be hanging out with him," Sokka said, still staring Zuko down. "He doesn't have a great reputation, you know."

"Oh my god," Katara said, sounding more offended than angry. "What's wrong with you? He's just giving me a ride."

"You have a ride," Sokka said. "Me."

Zuko considered speaking, but changed his mind. They were still standing in the doorway, blocking traffic, and once again people were looking at them. Zuko would have really preferred to have a least one emotional confrontation today out of the public eye, but it wasn't to be.

"Don't be a doofus," Katara said. "This overprotective big brother shtick would work a lot better if I didn't make your lunch every day."

"You can't go with him," Sokka said.

It was the wrong thing to say. Katara drew herself up, chin in the air, shoulders back, and for the first time, Sokka looked at her rather than Zuko. His mouth turned down, but it was too late.

"If you think you can tell me what to do, you ignoramus, you've got another think coming!" Katara said, even louder now than she had been at her locker. "There is no way in hell I'm going to do what you say just because you've suddenly decided I'm a baby. I'm not, Sokka, and honestly, if you ever tell me what I can and can’t do again, I'll punch your stupid teeth out!"

Sokka opened his mouth and closed it again.

Then, in exactly the same tone of voice Katara had, said, "Why do you always have to make it a big deal, Katara?"

Zuko didn't point out that Sokka, by putting this front and center on the high school stage, had started this. He didn't want to get in between them.

"Get out of my way, dipshit," Katara snapped and seized Zuko's hand. Actually, her hand closed around his wrist, but the contact was still just a  _ little _ to intimate for Zuko, who jumped but didn't yank his hand back. Katara clearly didn't notice. She just dragged him past Sokka  and down the stairs towards the parking lot. Zuko just managed to turn around, make eye contact with the stunned Sokka, still in the door, flanked by his football team buddies and that little freshman kid they were always hanging out with, and offer a confused shrug.

Katara didn't look back and she kept moving, fast. "Left," Zuko said, then slightly louder, "Left, Katara, my car is to the left."

Without looking, she adjusted their trajectory and upon seeing Zuko's car, nearly threw him into the side of it as she let go. He just managed to unlock it when she got to the passenger side and it took another second to lean across the front seat and flip the latch on her side.

Katara flung herself into the car like a Victorian lady onto a fainting couch, and pulled the door closed after her.

"That was probably unnecessary," Zuko commented quietly. "Now your brother hates me."

"My brother is an idiot."

Zuko privately thought that anyone that tried to tell Katara  _ not _ to do something was probably an idiot, given how stubborn she was, but he wasn't going to say anything. She was scary when she was like this. 

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

She rubbed her eyes, sinking down into the seat a little. The anger seemed to be draining out of her, leaving only an exhausted slump to her shoulders. Zuko had the sudden impulse to reach out and put his arm around her, pulling her against him like Iroh had done when Zuko was little, but no, touching Katara in this state seemed dangerous, both because she might rip his head off, and because he was still uncomfortable with the fact that he even wanted to.

"Milkshake," Katara said from behind her hands.

"What?"

"I was promised a milkshake," she said, sitting up a little and rolling her head over to look at him, "and I intend to collect."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "Aye aye, ma'am," he said, and pulled out of the parking lot a little too fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will rely heavily on Zuko pining.
> 
> My knowledge of 80's music is really failing me -- I'm too young to remember most of it myself and too old for it to be my parents' nostalgia. We were a 70's punk household.


	8. We Got the Beat

 When Katara's door popped open, she was expecting a slightly intoxicated Sokka insisting she join the party downstairs. She was not at all ready for Suki, dressed in a baggy sweater hanging off one shoulder and a very short mini skirt that showed off the muscles in her legs, throwing herself into the room and onto Katara's bed, rolling over, and saying loudly, "Are you dating Scar Zuko now?"

"What?" Katara, who had been sequestered in her bedroom with Aang trying to avoid the party raging downstairs, stared down at Suki, unable to understand the words she'd just said. The door was open now and sound poured in — music, yelling, drunken laughter, the sound of someone in the yard hitting something. Every Friday night there was a party, probably because every Friday night, Gran-Gran babysat for the couple two streets away and would stay there overnight.

Aang got up and closed the door, restoring some version of calm to the room. Problem was, Suki and her question were still in it.

"I saw you and Sokka get into it yesterday," Suki said, rolling her eyes. She didn't sit up, just propped her chin on her elbow. It as a little weird to see Suki dressed like a girl, but she was pulling it off. Katara wished she was as comfortable in her own skin. "You and Scar Zuko seemed pretty friendly," Suki said, waggling her eyebrows. "You two been playing tonsil hockey when Sokka's not looking? Gettin' it on in the back of that beautiful car of his?"

"Suki,  _ ew _ !!" Katara shrieked and hit Suki with her pillow.

Aang, who had settled back onto the other corner of Katara's bed, looked up. He had a kind of careful blandness to his look that made it clear he was trying to look uninterested, but was anything but.

It would be one thing to talk about this with Suki — not that Katara wanted to do that either — but with Aang in the room? Absolutely not.

"Oh, come on, Katara." Suki rolled so she took up even more of the bed. "You can trust me. It's just us girls."

"I'm right here," Aang said.

"Whatever." Suki cocked her head. "If you cover up that one eye, Zuko's fine, for a punker shithead. I get it. He's got that hot, broody thing going on. And besides, he's been following you around everywhere. There's got to be something going on."

"There's not," Katara said insistently, her face hotter than the surface of the sun.

"Katara, don't be a prude," Suki said, making a face. "I'm not going to judge you. You  _ gotta _ tell me about it though. Is he a good kisser? I bet he is."

"I'm not having this conversation," Katara said, trying to put her book between her face and Suki's.

"So there's a conversation to have?"

It was useless. Ktara slapped the book down onto her lap. "No, there's no conversation. That's why we're not having it. There's nothing at all going on between me and Zuko. He's just keeping an eye on me so I don't ... have any more accidents."

Suki stuck out her bottom lip. "Oh, come on. You haven't even thought about it?"

"How much have you had to drink?" Katara asked.

"Enough." Suki sat up a little bit but still managed to take up most of the bed. "Come  _ on _ , don't be a party pooper. You don't have any girlfriends any more and I've never had them. Do you know how hard it is to talk to boys about this shit? They get so nervous. Help a girl out!"

"I'm  _ right here _ ," Aang said again.

"Kiddo, look." Suki reached across Katara to pat Aang's khaki clad knee. "I get that, and someday you'll get to be a boy too, but right now you're still basically a larva, and I'm going to ignore you. Now, Katara. Dish."

Katara gave Aang an apologetic look — to his credit, he just shrugged — and then said again, "There is nothing to dish."

"Boring." Suki sat up. "So you haven't done it?"

"No, of course not."

"Have you done it at all?" Suki asked, her head tilting to the side like an overly-nosey bird.

Katara's blush stretched all the way up to her hairline. She looked at Aang again, whose pale face was also very red. "I don't think that's an okay topic —”

"Oh come on, he knows about the birds and the bees, don't you?" Suki grinned at Aang. "You've had The Talk?"

Aang mirrored Katara's earlier gesture and raised his copy of The Two Towers between his face and the entire conversation. Despite that, his red ears stuck out from either side of the pages and he didn't seem to be turning any of them.

"Perfect." Suki clapped her hands and then rubbed them together. "So have you?"

Katara took a glance at Aang, then, against her better judgement, shook her head.

"Not even with Jet?" Suki asked, surprised.

Katara shook her head again. He'd wanted to, but she just ... hadn't. It had been a real problem in their relationship, but apparently not the only one.

"So would you do it with Zuko?"

"No, Suki, oh my  _ god _ !" Katara threw up her hands. "What is your obsession with him? Maybe you're into him."

"Naw, come on," Suki said, waving her hand. " _ So _ not my type." She kicked her feet up, revealing scuffed high tops. "I mean, come on. If you were going to do it with someone, he's not a bad someone to pick. Like, if you had to choose  _ someone _ ."

Katara wanted to sink through the floor and die. Since, however, that didn't seem to be an option, she stuck her nose in the air and said, "That's a stupid, mean question, Suki, and you know it. How would you feel if I asked you to just choose someone to do it with? It's not so much fun now, is it?"

"Oh, that's easy," said Suki, grinning. "I'd pick your brother."

" _ Gross _ !" Katara screeched, slapping her hands over her ears. "That's  _ disgusting _ !"

Aang's very wide eyes appeared over the top of his book. "Why?" he said in awe or perhaps terror. "Of all the people you could choose, why Sokka? He's ... he's ..."

"He's  _ Sokka _ !" Katara finished, not with awe but with absolute nausea. "Suki, I thought you had  _ standards _ !"

"Oh come on," Suki said, rolling her eyes. "He's funny, he's good looking, he's got arm muscles to  _ die  _ for. You just don't get it because you're related. If you weren't, you wouldn't be so dismissive."

"I need brain bleach," Katara said. "I don't even want to think about that."

"You know he doesn't have a girlfriend, right?" Aang said. "Why don't you just go tell him you want to ..." His face got, somehow, even more red. "Get next to him."

Suki shrugged. "Seems like a lot of work. Besides, he's busy. I'm busy. We're friends. It could get awkward."

"Also it's Sokka," Katara said. "Your subconscious is trying to save you. Listen to it."

"We're not talking about me," Suki said, still grinning and kicking her legs. "We're talking about you and how you want Zuko's tongue down your throat."

" _ I do not _ !" Katara screamed.

"I just don't get it," Suki said. She glanced over at Aang, still half-hiding behind his novel, and said, "Kiddo, back me up on this one. He's tall, he's hot, he's got a nice car, and he does whatever she says. Don't you think she should go for it?"

Katara put a pillow over her face.

"No," Aang said coldly, with an edge to his voice that Katara hadn't heard before. "He's not someone she should be going for at all. He's not part of our circle, and he's a jerk. And a bad influence anyway. He's always cutting class and getting into fights."

"Damn, Aang, tell us how you really feel," Suki said. "What did he do, kick your puppy?"

"I just don't like him," Aang said and disappeared behind the book again.

Katara and Suki took a moment to exchange a raised-eyebrow look — even Katara, who considered herself Aang's best friend didn't know what he had against Zuko — before Suki brushed it off and said, "At least come down to the party."

"Absolutely not," Katara said.

Suki pouted. "Why not? You always hole up here these days. You  _ used _ to come hang out a little bit, I remember seeing you. But now it's just Katara the Geek all the time."

Katara wrapped her arms around her chest. "I'm not dressed," she said.

"Well, you're still wearing clothes, so yes you are," Suki countered, "and also this is your bedroom. I'm sure we can find something."

"I don't want to," Katara said, sounding like a petulant child. "I don't want to deal with all the people and Sokka's ... you know. Sokka-ness."

Suki sighed. "Is this still about that whole thing with your sudden lack of social princess standing? I get it. I'll leave you alone." She rolled off the bed and hopped to her feet. "You two can sulk in peace."

"Will do," Aang said from behind his book.

Suki moved to the door but apparently wasn't done yet. "Just remember what I said," she said, pointing directly between Katara's eyes. "You'd better hop right on Zuko before someone else does."

"I'm not going to do that," Katara said, almost more of a sigh than a sentence. "Besides, he has a girlfriend."

"And I have a goldfish," said Suki.

Katara blinked. "What?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Suki said, pasting a falsely innocent expression across her oval face, "I thought we were talking about things that didn't matter."

And with that terrible little pearl of wisdom, Suki left the bedroom with a wink.

Katara managed to pull her jaw up but it was hard not to be horrified by ... well, right now pretty much everything about Suki. She shook her head.

"You're not going to, are you?" Aang asked.

"Not going to what?" she said, still looking at the door.

"You know," he said. "With Zuko."

"Oh, Aang, not you too," Katara said, finally turning to look at him. 

He was peering over the top of The Two Towers, gray eyes huge and scared. It was moments like this that she remembered how young he was, and how much her stupid feelings were likely to transfer over to him. 

"But Suki —”

"Is being an idiot," Katara said, rolling her eyes. "She's just trying to stir up gossip, Aang, don't worry about her."

"Really?" Aang said, suddenly seeming a lot happier.

"Of course." Katra rolled her eyes. "Zuko isn't ... I'm not ..." She shook her head, not even wanting to entertain the idea. "It's not happening, Aang, don't worry."

"Cool," Aang said, smiling and lowering his book slightly. "So you're not going to go down to the party?"

"No, of course not."

"Good," Aang said, and went back to reading with a smile.

* * *

 

"Someone's outside," Aang said, looking through the blinds.

Katara turned from the sink, looking through the hall to the other end of the house, still very close by. "Who is it?"

"It's a red car," Aang said, flipping up the corner of the mustard lace curtain to see better. "They're parking and getting out. It's ... oh." The last word was said with so much disgust that it left no doubt as to who had driven up to their house.

Katara hissed and almost dropped the plate she was washing. Her hands were covered in soap and she didn't have time to get to the door. "Aang," she said in her most no-nonsense mom voice, "get the door, please."

She glanced over enough to see the look on his face as he wrestled with himself, but there wasn't much for it but to get up and open the door just as Zuko knocked.

"Hi," she heard Aang say.

"Uh," said Zuko from the hall, his voice deeper than usual — she still couldn't see him from the sink where she was frantically washing the last dish and setting it in the drying rack, "Hey. Is Katara here?"

"Let me get Sokka," Aang said.

"No, thank you, Aang, you don't have to do that," Katara said crisply, suddenly realizing she was going to have to have a nice long talk with him about being polite, especially when it wasn't even his house. "I'm in the kitchen. Just a second."

"No rush," Zuko said gruffly, still in the doorway.

Katara dried her hands on a moss green dish towel and went to the door. Zuko stood there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. There was a rip across one knee and the denim there was worn nearly white — he'd obviously worked hard to get that tear. She thought maybe he'd tried to tone it down a little today, given that there were no profanities on his t-shirt, but he still didn't look quite like the kind of boy she'd want to take home to meet her grandmother. Of course, she wasn't planning on doing that, not in that way.

Which didn't change the fact that he was at her house.

"Do you want to come in?" Katara asked.

"Uh," Zuko said, looked at Aang, and concluded, "I think I'm good out here."

Aang folded his arms and lurked aggressively.

"I'm good, we can go," Katara said, needing to get out of this situation as fast as possible. She picked her purse up from the table next to the door and slung it over her shoulder. "Aang, I'll be back in a few hours. Tell Sokka that I'll be back in time for dinner if Gran-Gran doesn't want to cook." She paused, wanting to tell him to be cool, but knowing he wouldn't be; as soon as she left, he was going to run right up to Sokka's room to tattle on her. Which was exactly why she wasn't telling him where she was going.

Aang's eyes narrowed and Katara knew she was right.

She gave him a stern look, the kind she gave Sokka all the time but so rarely had to shoot in Aang's direction. He looked at least a little ashamed of himself, but not enough; there was still a stubborn twist to his mouth that worried Katara. But what could she do about it? Nothing.

So instead of worrying about what nonsense was going through Aang's head, she patted his shoulder and left.

She and Zuko didn't walk side by side. Instead, he trailed a little ways after her down the cement walkway. She didn't wait for him to open the door for her — she hadn't even expected him to do it in the first place — and instead got into the passenger seat of his car without waiting to be invited.

When he finally slid into the driver's seat, she couldn't help but notice the little smirk.

"You're boyfriend's very protective," he said.

Katara frowned. "Not funny."

"What's his deal?" Zuko asked, strangely okay with the fact that a fourteen-year-old had just given him the stink eye. Katara didn't know how he did it. If she'd been in his position, she's be both offended and horrified that she might have done something wrong. Zuko was taking the whole thing pretty well.

"He just doesn't like you," Katara said, trying to leave it at that.

Zuko snorted and started the car, rolling the windows down before pulling away from the curb. "I got that. Shockingly, the evil eye gave me a pretty good idea about where his head was at. The real question is  _ why _ he doesn't like me."

"Do you care?" Katara challenged.

"Not really," Zuko said, still with antagonizing calmness. "It's not that I'm really burning to figure out why the shrimp is being such a pain in the ass. But, on the other hand, if I'm going to hang out with you, I'm probably going to want to know because otherwise he's going to try to pull something nasty on me. Maybe bite my ankles or some other little yippy dog move."

"That's mean."

Zuko took his eyes off the road to give her an eye roll that seemed to last for eternity. It ended just before Katara snapped at him not to get them into an accident and he made a smooth turn down another street, passing bigger houses with bigger yards. "Look, I'm not the one being nasty to visitors," he said. "You gotta talk to him."

Katara made an unhappy noise. She was starting to feel the same way, like Aang needed to be set straight, but what was she supposed to say? Defending Zuko's life choices wasn't something she had an interest in doing. 

"Where are we going?" she said instead.

"Toph's." Zuko made another turn and Katara was starting to get thoroughly lost. She had no idea where she was, but this place probably had great Trick-Or-Treating; the houses were still growing in size and old growth trees shaded the street. "Her parents are a lot more forgiving than my dad."

Katara's teeth clenched.

"Besides, I figured my father was the last person you'd want to potentially run into," Zuko said, as though sensing her discomfort. Somehow, though, he kept his voice at the same volume. "I mean ... I'm right there with you."

Again, Katara paused and wondered how Zuko lived at home when his uncle was  _ right there,  _ but it wasn't really any of her business. She had to tell herself that several silent times before she believed it and stopped herself from opening her mouth.

_ None of her business _ , she thought again, staring out the windscreen with deep concentration.  _ None of her business _ .

In the end, it wasn't one of the pretty, big houses that Zuko pulled up in front of, but an even bigger building, placed far off from the road. Huge willow trees draped over the long driveway and at the end of it was a two story building with pretty, delicate eves and pale green paint on the bright walls. 

"Holy crap," Katara said, leaning out the window. "This is  _ choice _ ."

"Don't bring it up to Toph," Zuko said, turning off the car. "She won't care." He put on a higher, more nasally voice that was a passable if not good imitation of Toph. " _ Why do I care, I can't even see it _ ."

Katara grinned.

"Good," Zuko said, shooting her a look. "You look less stuck up when you smile."

"Excuse me?" Katara snapped, the smile instantly disappearing, but Zuko was already out of the car, chuckling and too far away for her to kick.

Seething, Katara threw open the passenger side door and stomped after him, throwing her bag over her shoulder.

Zuko didn't slow down to let her catch up and instead stalked his way into the house, up the front stairs. There were no other cars in the driveway, but Katara knew that that didn't necessarily mean anything with people like this; maybe they had a garage somewhere around back. There was a lot of house and she couldn't handle the idea that somewhere out there it just kept going.

When Zuko put his hand on the door, though, she squeaked and put her hand out, almost grabbing his wrist to pull it back. When he looked at her, confused, she didn't know what to do or how to explain herself, so she just stood there, hand outstretched an inch or so away from his.

Zuko's eyes flicked to her hand, then back to her face. "What?"

"I just ..." Katara swallowed. "Knock?"

Zuko shook his head and pulled open the door. "Her mom's upstairs," he said, holding the door open for Katara. "And there's no way Toph will ever hear me."

Nearly immediately, Katara was struck by two things. One was how nice the inside of the house was — sort of traditional, with lots of vases and a room off to one side with antique green couches, though they were set in beige shag carpet, the only modern note. The other thing, though, was the noise emanating from below her feet, a kind of muffled roar.

"What's that?" she asked Zuko as he stepped in behind her.

Zuko coked his head to one side. "Sounds like the Buzzcocks to me," he said. "Come on."

Still somewhat dazed, Katara followed Zuko down a set of stairs at the back of the hall and into a basement. Katara wrapped her hand around the railing and held on tight, her nerves getting the best of her — where were Toph’s parents? Was it okay to just casually walk into the house like this? Why wasn’t Zuko freaking out at this incredible breach of etiquette?

The staircase ended in a door, a heavy one that didn't do much to deaden the sound, though Katara thought that was the point of it. It was so loud, her eardrums ached. Zuko, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice, and opened this door without knocking either, though in this case, it would have been impossible for anyone on the other side to hear.

"Toph," he yelled as he entered, his voice somehow making headway against the music, "could you turn that down? You're gonna be deaf too if you're not careful."

The music level decreased and from inside the room, hidden by Zuko's shoulders, Toph said, "What are you, my dad?"

That seemed to be enough for Zuko to get out of the way and treat Katara to the view beyond him. It was something of a rec room in the basement, with a pool table shoved over to one side, but most of the half-finished space was taken up with a messy record collection strewn across the forest green carpet, a pair of speakers large enough to have come from a rock show, and Toph spread out on the floor like a fallen corpse.

"Jesus, how do you live like this?" Zuko said, gingerly stepping over a couple of albums. "Don't you break them?"

"Haven't yet," Toph said. "I'm blind, not stupid."

"Mmm," Zuko replied, picking up a couple of the albums. "Debatable."

"Douchecanoe," Toph said, sitting up. "Did you bring her?"

"Hi," Katara said awkwardly, finally remembering that she had to announce her presence to Toph. "Um, your house is beautiful."

"I'll take your word for it." Toph reached out and turned the music down a little more, her fingers briefly crab walking across the dials until she found the one she wanted. "I'm sure my mom would love to hear that. What's up?"

Katara looked at Zuko, wondering what  _ was  _ up.

"Katara's gonna learn to punch people," Zuko said. "So she doesn't keep getting beat up.

"Respect," Toph said, nodding sagely. "You gotta be able to defend yourself or some mouth breather is gonna take advantage."

"Sure," Katara said quietly.

"Would you help me clean up?" Zuko said. "Toph won't do it and I don't want to break ... " He held up one of the records, "this discarded Clash album, come on Toph, this is a masterpiece. Could you treat these with some goddamn respect?"

"No," Toph said.

Katara bent down and helped Zuko pick up the scattered LPs, handing them over to him to put away. He took them with a grunt that could have been a thank you, grasping them by the edge furthest from her hand. The cardstock sleeves, already beginning to go soft on the edges from constant handling, whispered together as he shuffled them together and stood them upright on the shelf next to the stereo with the others.

"Okay," Toph said, "So why are you here?"

"You're supposed to help Katara learn to hit better, remember?"

"Why can't you do that?" Toph said, rolling away across the floor. "I get that she needs to learn it, but why do I have to help?”

Zuko shook his head, but he was smiling despite it. Katara wondered how he could put up with the sheer amount of attitude that rolled off Toph in waves, but she figured she put up with Aang's smaller, quieter, but more life-rending nerd problems too. Maybe it was the same sort of instinct.

"What was I supposed to do, Toph? Take her to my house?"

Toph made a face. "Okay, true. Couldn't you go to the Y or something?"

"I think they frown on street fighting in the Y," Katara put in, her whole body going cold at the thought.

Zuko nodded, towards her, not Toph, well adjusted to verbalizing whatever he needed to say to Toph personally. "You have the room and the autonomy," he said.

"I guess," Toph said, still not bothering to get off the floor. "That's the one nice thing about getting treated like an invalid. The 'rents think I'm incapable of anything, including getting myself into trouble, so they pretty much leave me alone."

"Must be nice," Katara said bitterly, forgetting that she was basically the parent role in her own house. 

"Yeah, okay, pity party over," Zuko said, patting the records and stepping away. He led Katara around Toph's prone form and over to the back half of the room, between Toph's deafening music zone and the unused pool table. He took her shoulders and positioned her across from him, a couple feet away, then stepped back and put his hands up. It wasn't an actual defensive stance — his wrists curved and his elbows were too low — but Katara figured it wasn't supposed to be. Like Toph with her parents, Zuko wasn't taking her seriously.

"Okay," he said, raising his one good eyebrow. "Hit me."

Katara knew what was expected of her — to waver, to say no, to worry she would hurt him. So she didn't do any of that.

Katara hauled back, delivering the blow from her shoulder, and socked Zuko in the jaw.

Zuko grunted and stumbled, his head snapping back. For a second, Katara thought he would fall and she didn't move to help him; he deserved it for thinking she wouldn't do it. At the last second, he grabbed the edge of the pool table, hanging on to the dark wood as he regained his balance. His hand went to his face, rubbing the jaw line, and she'd expected anger, but he was smiling. It might, she thought, have been the first time he smiled at her.

"Okay, I deserved that," he said.

Katara nodded.

"She hit you, didn't she," Toph said, not getting up. "Told you."

Zuko's smile kept growing and it took on a certain amount of crookedness, turning it into more of a smirk. A spark kindled in his golden eyes, another thing Katara had never seen. It had a hungry edge to it as he looked her over and she had the sudden urge to cross her arms over her chest.

"Good," Zuko said, standing up. "This'll be fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I write Avatar nonsense, I feel like I'm just inserting myself into Suki and Toph, which is why fanfiction is usually written from the point of view of your worst friend (which I am and now that all my friends are getting married, I needed a new outlet). Do not expect them to become nice and respectful and helpful any time soon.


	9. I Love Rock n' Roll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some VERY strange moments but it kind of got stuck in my head as an idea and so here it is. Bon appetit?

 Zuko rolled into his driveway at four o'clock on Saturday afternoon, confident that no one would notice. And in fact, he was right. Azula's car was missing, which was exactly what he'd expected; she, Mai, and Ty Lee would be out until at least two or three in the morning, God only knew where. Their father was also out. He was usually out, which was better than when he was in. Weekends were perfect for Zuko. He was able to do what he wanted, when he wanted and, most importantly, grab some changes of clothing for all the nights during the school week that he'd rather spend at Iroh's.

His first goal was the shower. The hot water felt good on his old, fading bruises and the new aches fighting with Katara had given him. He found himself smiling as water sluiced over his hair, soap pouring into his eyes. She was a firecracker, that was for sure. She didn't have a lot of training, but she had guts. And she didn't have any kind of normal human qualms against violence.

He'd underestimated her.

And the way her eyes sparked like blue lightning when she'd punched him in the jaw ...

The water turned suddenly cold and Zuko yelped, leaping out of the stream. He was shivering by the time he washed the soap off his hair and face. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he headed up to his room on the third floor, as far away from his father's domain as possible.

His phone line rang as he put on his jeans and he scrambled for the handset, sticking it to his ear with his shoulder. "What?" he said.

"Hey, asshole," Azula said in her most nasal, annoying voice. "What are you doing tonight?"

"I have plans," Zuko said.

"No you don't," she drawled. "You don't even have friends. Come see this band Ty Lee found."

"Look, I appreciate the offer," said Zuko, who didn't, "but I'm not sure how much more new wave I can take."

"Fine, I don't care." He could almost see Azula with Mai's phone cord wrapped around her hand, twisting it tighter like a garrote. "You can stay home and you can be sad, or you can come out and have some fun and get it on with Mai as usual."

"Sounds so appealing," Zuko deadpanned.

"Come oooon." Azula moved on to whining just when he expected her to. "Don't be such a dweeb, Zuko. You've been such a huge weenie lately, and it's just embarrassing for me. Why don't you get it together and not become a total square."

Zuko pulled the phone away from his ear to put on his shirt, then sat down on the edge of his very neatly made — and unslept in — bed. "You know, this is why kids as school think you're a bully."

"They're jealous," Azula said. "Zuko, I swear to God, if you don't come out with us tonight, I'm going to tell Mai you're boinking that junior girl you keep hanging out with."

Zuko sat straight up. It wasn't that he cared what Mai thought of  _ him — _ if she thought he was sleeping around, that wasn't a huge deal, she usually thought that anyway. And he thought the same about her, though usually couldn't be bothered to do anything about it. The problem was if Mai thought that about  _ Katara _ , Katara in a whole heap of trouble. She was already getting enough trouble at school without Queen Bitch Azula and her flunkies getting in on it too. 

Mai, Zuko knew from experience, could be very nasty to other girls.

"You wouldn't," he said softly.

"Of course I would, Zuzu, don't be ridiculous." Azula laughed as though something was funny, though Zuko didn't know what. "Think of what Mai would do to the poor girl. Oh, wait, here she comes now." Azula's voice got a little further from the receiver, "Hey, Mai, guess what!"

"I'll go!" Zuko snapped. "Okay? I'll go. When is it?"

"What?" he heard Mai said, very far away.

"Zuko's going to come out with us tonight," Azula said in the voice that sounded the most like their mother, a kind of false 50's housewife thing that made Zuko's skin crawl. "Isn't that just  _ swell _ ?"

"Sure," Mai said.

Zuko gritted his teeth and wondered if he could get away with punching his little sister right in her big, fat mouth, but no, probably not. If he hit Azula, their dad would flip out, and Zuko would be the one to bear the brunt of the punishment. It wasn't worth it.

Yet.

"Okay, so meet us at Mai's at nine," Azula said, now matter of fact. "Try not to look like a homeless person."

"Hey, Azula," Zuko said, fake cheery. "Bite me."

And then he hung up.

* * *

 

One of the biggest issues, Katara found, about living in a small house with mostly boys and her very busy grandmother, was that Katara didn't get a lot of alone time. While Sokka got to lock himself in his room and play music and did who knew what (Katara didn't ask), that was very rarely an option for Katara. She had to cook and clean and help out. Not that Sokka didn't help — Gran-Gran would have wacked him with a spoon if he was completely lazy — but he helped take out the trash and do home repair and mow the lawn, activities that weren't required every day. Katara, on the other hand, made lunches and most dinner while Gran-Gran was out caring for the rest of the neighborhood’s children.

So she was really savoring the few minutes she had late on Saturday evening to sit in her room and just be  _ still _ when it was all ruined by an insistent knock.

"Go away, Sokka!" she yelled without getting up. "If you're hungry, you'll have to get it yourself, I'm not your servant."

"It's not Sokka."

Katara got up and opened the door to reveal, for the second time in two days, Suki.

This was not in her usual Saturday plans, so Katara spent a long moment staring at Suki, confused. Unlike last night, Suki was dressed in what Katara considered more normal attire for her — a striped green shirt tucked into Levi's with her lacrosse Letterman thrown over her shoulder.

"Hey," Suki said. "You busy?"

Since she wasn't, Katara couldn't exactly turn her away, despite wanting to, so she just shook her head and let Suki in.

"What are you doing tonight?" Suki asked, settling back against the footboard of Katara's bed and pushing aside an old stuffed whale from Katara's childhood. "There's a show and I think you need to get out of this house for once. You're becoming a hermit shut in and I'm worried about you."

Katara closed the door because she really didn't want her brother to hear this conversation. "Look, I appreciate the offer, Suki, but you don't need to pretend to be my friend because you feel sorry for me. I'm doing okay, you know."

"I don't do things out of pity," Suki said, though there wasn't any malice in it, just a kind of matter-of-fact understanding that Katara might think that way. She'd pinned her bangs out of her face with a few brightly colored clips that knocked quietly against each other as she tilted her head. "Katara, look. I get it. Suddenly this chick comes into your life when you're friendless and depressing, you think she's full of shit. But here's the deal. I didn't hang out with you before because you had your own people. Every time I saw you, you had them. Those girls you were always with, and that asshole boyfriend, what was his name?"

"Jet," Katara said quietly.

Suki snapped her fingers. "Yeah, that one, fuck that guy. Anyway, you didn't need another friend. But now, I mean, you're not locked up inside your little social bubble and I actually get to speak to you. You're nice, you're fun, and you're kind of tough for someone who dresses like such a prep. I like that about you. I want to be your friend. This isn't some kind of asshole ploy to embarrass you, or to feel bad for you. I don't have a ton of friends either right now, so maybe you can stop being such a priss and just be  _ normal _ ?"

She sounded, there at the end, so much like Zuko's lectures that Katara couldn't help smiling. "Okay, okay," she said, holding up her hands in defeat. "I get it. We're buddies now."

"Glad to see you're being reasonable," Suki siad. "Now come hang out with me tonight.

Katara glanced at the clock. "It's almost eight, isn't that a little late?"

"You precious darling," Suki said. "I know you haven't had any fun in a while but hey, maybe just give it a try. And get changed, you look like my mom."

Katara looked down. "It's not that bad, is it?"

Suki sighed. "Katara, you're a hottie, and it's mental that you dress like  _ anyone's _ mom. Maybe pull yourself together a little bit and put on a dress that wasn't made for a housewife?"

"No need to be rude about it," Katara grumbled.

"Look." Suki hopped up. "I can't make you go shopping, it's too late. But I'm sure we can find something that'll look good in here." And with that, and without asking, she pulled open the drawers of Katara's bureau and started rifling through them.

Katara, resigned to her fate, let her.

Twenty minutes later, she was wearing something that Suki had dubbed "kind of a preppy Madonna thing, no, Katara, don't make that face" and was sitting in front of the bathroom mirror, putting on eyeshadow.

"What about you?" she said, meeting Suki's eyes in the bathroom mirror. "Why don't you have to dress up?"

"I'm going to," Suki said, examining Gran-Gran's old painting of a ship lost at sea, proudly displayed above the sage green toilet, "but my stuff is at my place. We'll have to swing 'round there afterwards."

"Aren't we going to be late?"

"Late is early, you airhead," Suki said, rolling her eyes. "If you show up to a show when the doors open, you're a geek. But hurry up, we don't have the  _ whole _ night for you to fix yourself up. I do want to get out at some point."

"I'm getting some mixed messages here," Katara grumbled.

"Whatever." Suki leaned on the counter next to Katara, bracing her arms on the edge. "You look good. Like you're actually willing to have a good time for once. Now put on some damn lipstick and let's blow this popsicle joint."

"I have to tell Sokka I'm leaving."

"Oh, hold on." Suki popped the bathroom door open and yelled, "Hey, Sokka!"

Sokka's door opened. "Why are you still in my house?" he yelled back.

"I'm taking your sister out to have some fun!" Suki's volume didn't diminish and Katara winced; it wasn't a long hallway but jocks would be jocks. "Try not to have a cow about it, okay? I'll have her back before noon tomorrow."

"Before  _ when _ ?" Sokka yelped, sounding strangled.

"Don't be a baby!" Suki yelled goodnaturedly and closed the door again. "There. Done."

"You know, I should really be taking advice from you about how to talk to boys I like," Katara said blandly. "You have such a way with words."

"I didn't say I  _ liked _ him," Suki said, not blushing at all. "I said I  _ might _ ."

"Oh yeah, that makes so much difference." Katara capped her mascara just as Suki pinched her in the exposed slice of midriff. "Ow!"

"Come on, dummy," Suki said, taking Katara's arm. "We'd better get a move-on if we're going to show up at the right time."

"Whatever the hell that means," Katara said, but she let Suki drag her out of the bathroom, down the stairs, and right out the front door without resisting at all.

* * *

 

They’d barely gotten to the show and Zuko regretted everything.

For one thing, it seemed like Mai had forgotten they were fighting and was giving him sultry looks that he was doing his best to avoid. Not necessarily, he told himself as he edged away from her for the fourth time in ten minutes, because he didn't want to be around her or anything. They weren't  _ really _ fighting — that would require him putting a lot more emotional investment into their relationship — but that didn't mean he was ready to go from zero to sixty with her right now.

For another thing, Azula was in her usual form, which meant that any time he spent with his sister was full of cutting insults about both him and everyone around them. It could be exhausting, and it was even more so when she kept pulling on the sleeve of his jacket to get his ear close enough to her mouth to relay another snitty comment about someone they went to school with.

The music was ... well, mediocre. Other nights, Zuko would have counted that as a bad thing, but now it just faded into the general background noise of other badness to the point where he barely noticed.

The only person who was having a good time was Ty Lee, who was always having a good time. While Mai, Zuko, and Azula all wore mostly black as was their general custom, Ty Lee had opted for pink, with lavender leg warmers and a baby blue scrunchy in her teased hair. She flitted around them like a lost pixie, her green eyeshadow shining under the low lights.

Zuko, not one to pretend to be enjoying himself when he wasn't, slunk off into a back corner and hoped he would be left alone.

Of course, there wasn't a whole lot of chance of that. Almost immediately, Mai sidled up to him, pressing her arm along the length of his. Zuko inched away.

"Are you like ... mad at me?" Mai said. Another girl would have said it in a kind of sad, offended way. Mai said it like she was the one who was mad at him and that she didn't care how he felt about it.

"I dunno," Zuko said, examining the opening of his beer bottle — they didn't even pretend not to serve minors here. "Why do you care?"

"You're ignoring me." There was a little more bite to this one, which was surprising given Mai's reticence to engage in emotion of any kind. "What's going on? Are you being a little bitch about this?"

"About what?" He couldn't even remember what she'd done. Or what he'd done? Who cared.

Her eyebrows creased. "Ugh, Zuko, you're so impossible. Why can't you just get over it already? I'm tired of having to explain to Azula why we're fighting."

"Why are we fighting?" Zuko asked.

"You blew me off to go have dinner with your smelly uncle, remember?" Mai said.

Now that she'd reminded him, he did remember. Mai had thrown something at him when he told her he had to go see Iroh instead of do nothing with her, and he'd called her ... well, who cared what he'd called her, that didn't matter.

"Yeah, I stand by doing that," Zuko said and took a drink.

Mai rolled her eyes. "Fine. Whatever. You're a baby, I get it, I'm over it. Can you just like ... move on, please?"

"Mmm," said Zuko.

She must have taken that as a yes because she settled in next to him, her body turned towards him even as he angled away. He couldn't help remembering Katara's face when he'd called Mai a bitch — the pursed lips, the slight turn of her head to the side, and the curious, "So why are you dating her?"

He hadn't had a good answer then, and he definitely didn't have one now.

Mai was talking and he tired to focus, but didn't feel like it. The volume of the music made it so he'd have to lean in towards Mai in order to actually catch every word, and he didn't have the willpower to bother. It just seemed like it was all too much, too stupid and pointless to try to pretend to be invested in their relationship when he was finding more and more that he ... well, wasn't. And the problem was, Mai didn't want him to be. She didn't let him get invested. So maybe it was time for him to stop trying.

He glanced around the audience — mostly kids from school, a couple of older people but not many. A smallish crowd was forming by the bar in the back, the spot with the brightest lights in the room. 

The crowd moved a little and he turned and met Katara's eyes.

She was looking at him, though the emotion on her face was hard to parse. Her mouth was slightly open in surprise, but there was still some laughter in her eyes, which were bright spots of white light in her face as the stage lights reflected off them. She was more done up than usual, less conservative and more artsy, which he thought fit her better. Her hair was held back with a white headband, out of her face, and the curls spilled across her shoulders and down her back, the highlights purple-ish and shining.

She looked, Zuko realized again with one of those little starts, _ver_ y good.

"Right, Zuko?" Mai said.

He didn't answer, finding himself somehow trapped in looking at Katara and also doing his best not to look at Katara (that second part wasn't working at all).

Katara raised an eyebrow.

And right then, Mai reached up, grabbed his jacket in one hand and the back of his neck with the other, and pulled his face down to kiss him.

* * *

 

"No, Suki, you can't just leave me here," Katara said, seizing Suki's arm.

Suki, now dressed in a cut-up tshirt and massive earrings, rolled her eyes. "You'll be fine," she told Katara. "I'm just going to get some drinks and then I'll be right back. What do you think is going to happen to you? There's only a couple people here and we know most of them from school. You're not going to die or anything, stop being a dummy."

Suki was, of course, right, but that didn't make Katara feel any better. She didn't want to be left on her own in this strange place filled with people she didn't know all that well. Why couldn't Suki just stay with her, or ... or ...

No, Suki was right. Katara sighed and let go. "Fine," she said, "but you'd better get back here fast before I start panicking."

"You're such a dorkus," Suki said, and left.

So for a minute or so, Katara fiddled with her bracelets and looked around at everyone without making eye contact or seeming like she was looking. What else was there to do? More importantly, this seemed safer than trying to speak to anyone. At least there was music — fun, upbeat, synth-y music that Katara found herself enjoying despite the number of times she told Suki she absolutely would not have a good time.

She'd be having a better time if she hadn't been left alone, though.

Impatient, she turned and scanned the bar, where Suki was talking animatedly to someone while waiting her turn. Oh, to be that social and fun. People  _ liked _ Katara, sure, but it was usually for what she could do for them, not for her personality. Suki, who did nothing for anyone except threaten violence and a good time, had a much easier time making friends.

Katara's gaze wandered around to the crowd, and then over to the edges where little quiet groups huddled together, their heads fogged by smoke.

And in the shadows, holding a beer bottle and looking bored, was Zuko.

This, Katara instantly realized as she locked her gaze on him, was Zuko when he  _ wasn't _ trying to be nice. There were studs on his jacket and rips in his jeans, a lot of them. His hair fell into his face, shadowing parts of it. And he wasn't with Toph tonight as Katara had half-expected. Instead, the girl next to him was pretty, though odd looking, with a very pale face and lots of dark makeup, making her eyes look like wisps of light in the dark sockets of a corpse.

Mai, Katara's internal rolodex supplied. The Girlfriend.

Mai was talking, but Zuko wasn't and his eyes roved over the crowd, unfocused. He didn't even have his head bent in Mai's direction. Idly, he took a drink from the bottle in his hand as though he'd done it a million times before.

And then his meandering gaze fell on Katara.

She didn't turn away, though her brain was screaming at her to do so. Zuko's eyes brightened ever so slightly when he saw her, then did a quick rundown of what she was wearing — that made her a little uncomfortable — before bouncing back up to her face. Katara squashed the urge to pull her skirt down just a little bit, as though that would help make it longer. If she did, that would only be an indication that she cared what he thought of her. Which she did not. At all.

Instead, she just arched an eyebrow at him.

For a second, she caught Mai's eyes on her as well, and then Zuko's head jerked as Mai grabbed him and pulled him down to kiss her.

Heat filled Katara's face — she hated public displays of affection — but despite Mai kissing him like she was trying to inhale him, Zuko didn't look away from Katara. His hands stayed at his side and he just seemed to be letting it happen to him, rather than participating. The hair on Katara's arms rose. There was some very intense emotion passing between her and Zuko, something Katara felt in her belly, but still couldn't identify. 

She wanted to pull herself away but just couldn't.

"Well, what on  _ earth _ is going on here?" Suki said, throwing her arm around Katara's shoulders.

Thankfully, at just that moment, Mai released Zuko and he stumbled back, breaking eye contact, and Katara turned, her face burning. She wanted to put her hands over her eyes and sink into the floor — the strange intimacy of the moment weighed on her in a way she couldn't begin to describe.

"What was that?" Suki asked again.

"Um, nothing?" Katara said, unsure if she was lying or not.

"Didn't look like nothing." Suki shaded her eyes against the lights and looked over at Zuko again. "Looked like some real wacked out shit. Oh good, he's looking over here again. Hi, Zuko!" Suki started waving and Katara looked up in horror to see Zuko, with Mai still clinging to him, looking in their direction again. Suki kept waving. "Hey, Zuko! Yeah, you! Why're you such a weirdo?"

Katara, blushing even more if that was possible, locked her arms around Suki's chest and half-dragged, half-tackled her away, out of Zuko's line of sight and into the crowd. She glanced back just before the people closed around them and met Zuko's eyes, mismatched and amused.

Suki was laughing, which Katara didn't appreciate at all. "Wow, what the hell?" she said, patting Katara's hair. "Your face is amazing right now. What did he do to you?"

"Nothing!"

"As if." Suki ducked her head to get a better look at Katara's face. "You're bright red. Can't blame you, though. Never seen anyone make out with someone in such a weird way."

"Can we not talk about it?"

"Sure." Suki shoved a Coke into Katara's hands. "Drink that. No alcohol, I promise." She grinned. "Can't have you doing something stupid when Scar Zuko's over there engaging in eye sex from across the —”

"Suki, no!" Katara wailed. "Stop it! Just stop it!"

"I'm just saying, I think he's into you."

Katara glared. "Yes, the biggest indication of a boy liking someone is that he makes out  _ with his girlfriend _ in front of her. How could I ever have been so blind?"

Suki shrugged. "Just sayin'."

Whatever she was saying, Katara didn't want to hear it. "I have to go to the bathroom," she said, shoving her soda back into Suki's hands. "I'll be back."

The bathroom was a strangely comfortable crush of girls, all fixing their makeup or talking animatedly to each other in front of the mirror. Katara took a minute after washing her hands to stare at her reflection. She looked older than usual with the makeup Suki had talked her into, but her eyes were still those of a scared little girl.

She hated that.

"You okay?" asked the girl at the next sink, glancing at Katara in the mirror while fixing her mascara. "You look like you saw a ghost."

"No," Katara said faintly. "Just boy problems."

The girl shook her head and her hair bounced as though in agreement. "The worst," she said sympathetically. "You want this one, or do you not want him?"

"I don't know," Katara said faintly. 

Making a sympathetic noise, the girl reached out and squeezed Katara's shoulder. "You'll work it out," she said and left the bathroom.

Katara followed a minute later, squaring her shoulders and deciding not to think about Zuko for the rest of the evening. 

It would have been a lot easier to follow that mandate if he hadn't been standing outside the door, leaning against the wall and ignoring the girls in line looking at him and giggling.

"There you are," he said as soon as she stepped out, not giving her time to bolt. "I thought you'd drowned."

"Yeah, well," Katara said, panicking, "fuck you."

Zuko's eyebrow rose and he pushed himself off the wall to lean against it with one hand, towering over her — it wasn't that he was that much taller, but he seemed to actively be looming. His presence took up more space than it should have somehow and Katara wanted to run as she looked up at him, but the crowd of girls behind her made that hard. "Wow," he said with some edge to his voice, "you're mad at me too, huh? What did I do this time?"

She wondered if the "too" refered to Mai, and what she'd said to him, but that wasn't any of Katara's business. She averted her gaze from his face. "Nothing," she said, knowing she sounded like a liar. "You didn't do anything. It's fine."

"You're so full of shit," Zuko said, grinning. "Sorry Mai's such a freak."

"She's your girlfriend," Katara said pointedly, while also trying not to sound jealous —  _ which she absolutely wasn't _ . "I mean, that seems like your problem."

Zuko shrugged. "I know," he said.

They stood their awkwardly for a moment — Katara trying not to look at him because she had no idea what to say — and then Zuko said, "Your friend ..."

"Suki."

"She seems like ... you know." Zuko scratched his chin. "Nice."

"She's being a pain in my butt," Katara muttered.

"Yeah, well." He grinned crookedly. "That seems like your problem."

She couldn't help smiling back. "Asshole."

"Yeah, that's been established." He was looking at her in an odd way, nearly the same as when he'd watched her earlier. It was more eye contact than Katara was comfortable with. "Look," Zuko said slowly, "I didn't mean to wig you out."

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, okay." He kept looking at her and there was so much weight to his gaze that Katara thought she might fall over. Her head felt a little fuzzy, like she'd suddenly caught a cold. "I just mean ..." Zuko started, then stopped. "Nothing. It's nothing."

Katara, unable to speak, nodded.

Finally,  _ finally _ , he looked away from her, gesturing vaguely. "I gotta —”

"Yeah," Katara said, too loud with relief. "Yeah, of course. I gotta find Suki anyway.

Zuko nodded. "Cool. I'll uh, see you at school."

Katara nodded again, feeling like a stringless puppet.

Zuko took a couple of steps away from her, then turned around. "You look nice," he said loudly enough for the people around to hear, and then ducked his head and nearly dove into the crowd.

For a second, Katara stood there, staring after him like an idiot before raising one hand to her hair as though that would explain what was happening.

One of the girls behind her in line tapped her on the shoulder. "Is that your boyfriend?" she asked, seeming somewhat in awe.

"No," Katara said immediately, though she didn't turn to look since she was too busy staring at the place where Zuko had disappeared. "No, he's just my ... friend."

He wasn't that either, but it was easier to explain than "bodyguard".

"Hmmm," the girl said. "Why not?"

And Katara didn't have a good answer to that.

So she went to find Suki because if she thought about Zuko's shy, crooked smile for one more second, she was going to go ballistic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice how I didn't describe the music at all for fear of making this too much like my other Zutara band AU fic, I'm really trying my best to make them different but it's so hard. You're all so lucky I'm not spending big chunks of this story talking about the technical specs of 1980's sound equipment. These are the urges I suppress for you all and I hope you're happy (but seriously, it's a real struggle)


	10. Tainted Love

Zuko was impressed that Mai waited until she was fully in the passenger seat of his car, door closed, before she asked, "Who was that girl you were talking to?"

"What?" Zuko said, knowing exactly what she meant and deciding not to answer if he could help it.

"The girl," Mai said, folding her arms. "The one with the curls."

"Oh, I just know her from school." Zuko reached down and turned on the car. He didn't look at Mai. In fact, he didn't even know why Mai was in his car. She'd come with Azula, so she should be leaving with Azula. But no, something had happened, some kind of odd girl game of musical chairs, and suddenly Mai was following him out towards his car.

Azula was probably planning something. That was Zuko's usual explanation for things he didn’t like.

"Hmm," Mai said as he started the car, clearly not believing him. "Why do you even know someone like  _ that _ ?"

There were a lot of things she could have meant, Zuko thought as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the street. She could, of course, mean someone who wasn't in their social group, someone too popular and  _ normal _ for Zuko to associate with. That was likely, but even more likely was that she meant someone who didn't have money coming out their ass. Ty Lee was the only exception to Mai's "no poor people" rule, and that was only because she was too ingrained in their group since childhood, and also because she wasn't  _ that _ poor. Solidly middle class, that was Ty Lee. 

Having seen her house, Zuko knew that Katara wasn't that.

"She's ... tutoring me in History," Zuko said, going with the same lie Katara had told Iroh.

"She's  _ what _ ?" Mai said sharply, her voice cutting through his quiet thoughts. "You're getting  _ tutored _ ? What kind of idiot are you?"

"Wow, you're so nice to me," Zuko said.

_ So why are you dating her? _

"Why do you need a tutor?" Mai said.

"I dunno. Ask my stupid history teacher." Zuko shrugged. "She says she'll hold me back if I don't pass." That part was true enough. "Figured I'd rather not get stuck in this dump for any longer than I have to."

Mai grumbled something and Zuko just stared through the windscreen. Mai didn't have his hatred of this town, of his father, of the life he led. She didn't necessarily have a great time with it — her family cared about her even less than Mai cared about anyone else — but she didn't want to get away. She just accepted the downsides because she liked the perks that came along with being rich and comfortable. 

Zuko had stopped getting a lot of those perks a long time ago.

"So why were you talking to her?" Mai said.

He glanced at her in the light of a passing streetlamp. Her bangs hung over her eyes, but her mouth was a slashing line through the paleness of her face. She hadn't spoken to him in days, and now she was angry at him for talking to another girl? Zuko shook his head. What was going on with her?

"She's nice," Zuko said, staring at the road instead, even though he barely needed to concentrate. "You know, a nerd, but nice."

" _ Nice _ ?" 

The bitterness there didn't surprise Zuko. Nice wasn't something he or Mai had ever really worried about. It was standing and clout first, and then everything else. But things had changed for Zuko. As his father's violence had rachetted up, the idea of staying silent and only caring about social class and status stopped appealing to Zuko. Those things didn't stop him from getting hurt. They didn't stop Azula from deteriorating into their father's puppet.

"Yeah," Zuko said, a little more forcefully. "She's nice. What, am I not allowed to talk to people?"

"No," Mai snapped. "Not like that."

"People like that?"

"Yes," Mai said, "but  _ also _ you're not allowed to talk to people the way you were talking to her."

"And how was that?" Zuko growled.

"Like she meant something to you."

He hit the brakes, hard. The car came to a squealing halt in the middle of the street — thankfully there was no one around to run into him. Mai jerked and just managed to catch herself, hands outstretched on the dashboard. 

"What the fuck, Zuko?" she snarled.

"Listen to me," Zuko said, his voice far away and as cold as his father's. "You don't get to push me away for  _ years _ , to give me all kinds of shit whenever I try to care about you, and then get mad when I even  _ consider _ caring about other people. I'm allowed to have friends, Mai, friends that maybe aren't your friends. Especially when you don't want anything from me except someone who puts as little effort into a relationship as you do."

_ So why are you dating her? _

Mai's teeth flashed in the dark. "You can't say I don't let you have  _ friends.  _ You're always hanging out with that weird little lesbian kid —”

"You hate Toph," Zuko pointed out.

"Of course I do, have you seen her?" Mai made a face. "But at least she's the right sort of people. If you're going to have a weird little friend, at least it's someone we  _ know _ ."

"Okay, so your problem is that I'm not just friends with richies?"

"Yes!" Mai snapped, then instantly, "No! That girl —”

"She's pretty, isn't she," Zuko said, because he was a reckless idiot.

Mai blew her top.

“Do you think this is some kind of game?” she hissed — even at her angriest, Mai couldn’t bear to raise her voice. “Are you trying to fuck with me here, or are you just this much of an idiot? I don’t care  _ how _ hot some little nothing of a girl is, you aren’t going to go for her. You’re never really going to leave everything you have just because you’re mad at your daddy. You don’t have the balls for that. I don’t care what butt ugly chick you try to put the moves on, we both know you’re not really going anywhere.”

Zuko’s vision darkened at the corners. His knuckles on the steering wheel turned white.

“She’s not a nothing,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“She’s not a nothing of a girl, Mai. She’s something. She’s a lot of somethings, actually. You always do this.” He shot her his bet glower, all scar and sneer. “You always just dismiss people because they’re not what you think I should be.”

“Whatever.” Mai’s chin drew in close to her chest. “Who cares about her, Zuko? Like, who would really care if she just stopped existing tomorrow.”

“Well, I would, for one,” Zuko snapped.

“Fine!” Mai snapped. “So why don’t go marry her?”

“You know what?” Zuko said, leaning into the back seat to get his bag, “fuck you, Mai. Fuck your whole unattached ice queen thing. Fuck you for razzing me for having a goddamn heart. And fuck you for not being able to see past your own fucking nose.” He pulled his back forward and opened the driver’s side door. “Get home yourself.”

And he got out of his own car in the middle of the street and, throwing his duffle of clothes over his shoulder, walked away.

He left the door open, with Mai staring at him awkwardly from the passenger seat, her mouth open.

“Zuko!” she yelled after him.

“Don’t wreck my fucking car, Mai!” he shouted over his shoulder.

“Are you  _ dumping _ me?” she called.

He turned, throwing his arms wide in an almost shrug. “Yeah, Mai, what do you think? Of course I’m fucking dumping you! Consider yourself dumped.”

“You can’t —“

“Watch me!” Zuko yelled.

The last he saw of Mai was her sitting forlorn in the passenger seat of his still-running car, staring at him, mouth open and eyes wide. Then he whipped around, pulled his bag higher, and began the long trek to Iroh’s.

* * *

Katara’s ears rang as she exited the club with Suki’s arm around her shoulders. Her stomach felt bubbly with excitement and nerves, the residue of a pretty good night and a very odd interaction.

They piled into Suki’s old Volvo and Katara couldn't help but to tap her fingers against the door even as she closed it, still so full of energy it was as though her bloodstream ran with bees. Suki turned the car on and Katara cranked her window down, letting cool air wash over her still warm face.

"Better?" Suki said. 

Katara nodded.

"I told you we'd have fun tonight," Suki said as she pulled out. "You have to learn to trust me. I'm not trying to lead you astray or something. I'm here to help."

"All right, all right," Katara said, laughing and putting up her hands. "I get it. Never argue with you again."

"That's right," said Suki, turning down the radio a little — the night DJ was playing something slow that Suki apparently considered uninteresting. "So. What is  _ up _ with you and Zuko?"

"Nothing!" Katara's face warmed all the way up to her hairline. "How many times do I have to say it, Suki! Nothing is going on between us. You saw that. He has a girlfriend, and anyway, I'm not interested in him."

"Aren't you?" Suki raised an eyebrow.

"I'm really not!" Katara insisted.

"Mmmm." Suki pursed her lips. For a couple streets she was quiet and Katara was just sinking into a delicate sense of security when they turned onto Katara's street and Suki said, "Ten dollars."

"What?"

"I think you're wrong," Suki said, "so if you  _ don't _ make out with Zuko, you owe me ten dollars."

Katara thought about that for a second. "That doesn't seem fair," she said. "Shouldn't it be the other way around? Like, you bet me ten dollars that I'll make out with him?"

"No," Suki said, "let me explain this. I want something out of this deal. On the one hand, if you  _ do _ make out with him, I get the satisfaction of singing the 'I Told You So Song' at you for the rest of your life. If you  _ don't _ , I get a ten dollar consolation prize. Seems fair to me."

"Yeah, it only seems fair to you," Katara said. "This is dumb. Why am I the only one who has to kiss someone? That would be like if I said you had to kiss Sokka or give me ten dollars."

"Hmm," Suki said, maneuvering the car towards the curb in front of Katara's house. A light was still on downstairs. "You're right," Suki said, shutting the car off. "I hadn't thought about it like that, but you know what, you make a good point. Is your grandma home?"

"Yes, but she's probably asleep," Katara said. "I'd bet that's Sokka waiting for me."

Suki nodded and opened the door. "Come on, I'll walk you to the door."

"You don't have to," Katara said, suddenly nervous.

"No, it's fine." Suki's voice was light, but it was a false lightness. When Katara got out and looked at Suki over the Volvo's roof, the bland mask that met her gaze did more to increase her worry than to lessen it. Suki cocked her head and blinked rapidly. "Come on, Katara, you look tired. Let's get you inside.

Yup, Katara decided. This was very bad.

But she couldn't figure out what exactly Suki was planning, so she just fell into step beside her as they walked up the sidewalk to the front door.

Suki knocked.

"You don't need to do that," Katara said, diving into her handbag. "I have my keys, don't wake anyone —”

The door opened and Sokka, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, opened it, already angry.

"Oh, hey Sokka," Suki said, then reached out, grabbed him by the shirt, and yanked him down so she could kiss him.

Katara, who should have seen this coming, said, "Oh my god," and put her hand over her eyes.

At one point, she peered through her fingers and almost laughed at the look on Sokka's face — confusion, but also a sort of bliss, like he thought maybe this was a dream, or a prank. Suki's hair fell into her face and hid most of her expression, but from the way she adjusted her grip to pull Sokka tighter against her made Katara think she might be enjoying this too.

After a long,  _ long _ minute, Suki pulled away. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, leaving a streak of red lipstick across it. "Cool," she said, breathing a little hard, cheeks pink despite her calm demeanor. "Katara, I no longer owe you ten dollars." She clapped Katara on the shoulder. "See you both Monday."

Standing on the tiny porch with the front door still open, Sokka and Katara watched Suki turn, walk down the sidewalk, and get back into her car. She waved out the passenger window, leaning across the seat a little to do it, and then pulled away, her car rumbling a little as it made the maneuver, and then shooting off into the night.

Katara looked at Sokka, whose mouth was still open.

"You look like an idiot," she said.

"What?"

She waved a hand in front of Sokka's face. "Hey, dummy. Yeah, you."

When he turned, it was slow and confused, as though his body was responding without his brain. "Hmm?" he said, tilting his head. His hair, loose around his neck and chin, swayed in the nighttime breeze.

Katara rolled her eyes. "Okay, idiot. Let's get you inside." She turned him with both hands, rough on his loose arms, and frog marched him back into the house, shutting the door behind her.


	11. Heart of Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barely wrote all month and then dumped a little baby chapter on you, but on the other hand, it'll be another month before I do any more on this story (NaNoWriMo time of year saps my soul, wish me luck) and I wanted to put something up before disappearing.
> 
> If you're interested in following my writing progress, I usually complain about it over on my tumblr, that's also grapefruittwostep

Aang leaned forward from the back seat towards Katara and put one hand up to his mouth to whisper, "What's gotten into Sokka?"

Katara looked at him and rolled her eyes. Instead of Sokka's usual breakneck pace, he was driving slowly enough that people were honking behind him, and a couple of boys had sped past, laughing when they saw whose car it was.

"He's being an idiot," Katata whispered back.

Sokka's chin jerked up and he said, too loudly, "Do you think Suki will be at school today?"

"Probably," Katara said, unable to hide her smile. "It'll be a Monday, so I'd say yes."

"Okay, great," Sokka said, nodding sagely. "That's great, that'll be great."

In Katara's peripheral vision, Aang raised an eyebrow in an aggressive question.

"Suki jumped him on Saturday," Katara said, turning around. "I should add, she did it _ on a bet _ ." She glanced at Sokka, but that didn't seem to have any  effect on his dreamy expression. "Anyway, apparently Sokka can't get any action at all, because one cute jock girl kissing him to avoid paying me ten dollars has turned him into this moron."

Aang sniggered.

Katara glanced out the front window as they meandered down the street, not really looking at anything. But then something caught her eye and she nearly grabbed the wheel out of Sokka's hands. "Stop the car!" she snapped. "Now, Sokka, stop the car right here."

Jolted out of his half-asleep state, Sokka, pulled over to the side of the road just as Katara got the window rolled down and stuck her head, and most of her upper body out.

"What are you doing?" she yelled, twisting around.

Zuko, who'd been walking down the street with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, looked up. He made a face. "Walking to school, airhead, what do you think?"

"Where's your car?" Katara said, looking around as though it might jump out of a bush.

Zuko's already dark expression soured even further. "Mai has it," he said, then, mouth twisting, added, "I hope."

"You hope?" Katara tucked her knees under her so she could lean out the window and comfortably rest her arms on the doorframe. Sokka and Aang were both craning towards her side of the car as well, suspicion coloring their expressions in the side mirror.

Zuko rolled his eyes. "I kind of dumped Mai and left her in my car, so I'm really hoping she didn't wreck it."

It took Katara a second to process that information.

"Who's Mai?" Aang asked from the back, quietly, as though Zuko couldn't hear him.

"His girlfriend," Katara said, turning to the back seat and Aang's pale face. "They break up all the time."

"I think this one is going to stick," Zuko said. He'd caught up with the car by now and had stopped walking, just standing by Katara's window with his hands in his pockets, not quite looking at her. "I kind of blew up at her. Usually she does the dumping and I don't know if I'm going to be able to come back from being the dump _ er _ instead of the dump _ ee _ ."

"Look, I'm sure you'll be able to fix things," said Katara in her most logical voice, and for some reason when she said it, both Aang and Sokka looked at her in shock. "It can't be all that bad —”

"I don't want to fix it," Zuko said gruffly. "I'm tired of her shit."

Immediately the suspicious expressions returned and Katara almost kicked Sokka for being such a dick. What was up with these two? Why were they being so rude?

"It's not a big deal," Zuko said. "Just pissed that I have to walk, but I guess that's my punishment for being such a dipshit."

"Get in," Katara said.

Everyone looked at her in horror.

Which she ignored as she waved Aang out of the way. "Aang, scoot over and let Zuko sit there. Don't walk to school, you dummy, we're right here. Aang, seriously, just scoot. There's a whole back seat and you're short."

Aang, his cheeks bright red, scooted.

"No, you don't need to do that," Zuko said, taking a step back. "I'll be fine, but thanks for the offer."

"Zuko," Katara said coldly, reaching around to pop open the latch and push the rear door wide, "get in the car."

"I'd do it," said Sokka, sounding like he might still hit Zuko later. "You don't argue with Katara. Ever."

"Yeah, I've noticed that," Zuko said, and got into the car.

It was a somewhat awkward transition, since Zuko's legs were pretty long and folding up into the back seat took him a minute — a minute in which Sokka was already driving. His knees bumped against the seat and jarred Katara's back, but she didn't flinch, just turned around to peer at Zuko around the headrest.

"Why did you and Mai split?" she asked.

The unscarred side of Zuko's face went somewhat pink and he looked out the window. "It wasn't important."

"It wasn't?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Aang glaring at the back of Zuko's head as though if he narrowed his eyes hard enough, lasers would come out of them and blow Zuko's skull to bits. Katara shot him a warning look, which he didn't see, then clicked her tongue until he turned. When he saw her face, his bottom lip stuck out immediately and he sank into his shoulders, folding his arms and looking out the opposite window.

Zuko, who'd missed the whole thing, said, "Yeah, you know. I mean, we've been dating for a long time. There was a lot of stuff. Just like, you know, that sort of straw that broke the camel's back thing."

Unbidden, the image of Zuko and Mai kissing popped into Katara's head — his disinterest, her overly affectionate affection, the immediate cessation of it when she no longer found him interesting. If Zuko didn't care that much, Katara thought, and neither did Mai, how did either one of them find the effort to invest in actually liking each other?

And that wasn't bringing up Zuko's ... staring.

"So it just kind of fell apart?" Katara said, insistently this time, more and more curious.

"Yup," Zuko said, mimicking Aang's pose and immediately telling Katara he was keeping secrets. "That was it."

"Stop badgering him." Sokka unexpectedly came to Zuko's rescue, tugging on Katara's sleeve. "Let the poor man be. It's none of your business."

Katara whipped around and glared at him, but he was looking at the road again and didn't acknowledge her. "Sokka," she hissed, trying to do so quietly enough that only he heard her, even though Zuko and Aang were two feet away, "why do you always have to spoil — ?"

"Have you tried not being a bitch?" Sokka said very loudly.

Katara whacked him with the back of her hand. "Don't call me that!"

"Okay, okay," Aang said, leaning forward out of the back seat and putting a hand  on each of their elbows, a universal gesture of pacification. "It's okay. You don't need to fight about it."

"It's okay, Aang," Sokka said, shaking his arm, which jerked the wheel slightly and caused the car to shimmy slightly in and out of the lane.

"Could you not get us killed?" Katara snapped.

From behind her head, very quietly, Zuko said, "Are they always like this?"

She turned her head just in time to see Aang roll his eyes and nod.

"Alright, well, you could both walk next time," she told them and settled back into her seat with her arms folded.

"Now you've done it," Sokka said.

For the next minute, there was silence and then they pulled up at the school. In a second, Zuko was out the back seat of the car, throwing his bag onto his shoulder. Sokka hadn't even fully pulled into a parking spot.

"Come on!" Katara yelled out the window. "What are you ashamed of being seen with us?"

For some reason, though she didn't want to really consider why, the idea hurt.

"No." Zuko wavered near the car, his eyes darting around like a nervous deer. "It's not me I'm worried about."

Katara watched him, the way he kept looking at her as she too climbed out of the now parked car, and then away again. He was looking for someone, that was clear, but who.

Mai?

That was when Katara realized that he didn't want  _ Mai _ to see them together.

She folded her arms. "I thought you broke up."

"What?"

She took another step towards Zuko so that Sokka and Aang couldn't hear — she didn't want them to make fun of her later. "I thought," she said, through unexpectedly gritted teeth, "that you broke up with her. So why are you so worried that she'll see you?"

Zuko gave her the nastiest and most scathing look she'd ever seen on a human face. Immediately, Katara had to stuff down the urge to take a step backwards. So this was what it was like on the other side of his anger. This was bad and scary and she didn't like it. No wonder people left her alone.

"I'm not doing it because of her," Zuko snarled, with a hiss to his words like an alligator. "I don't give a fuck if I'm seen with you. It's not my reputation I'm worried about, not like I really have one. If the only problem with Mai knowing I was hanging around you was that she wasn't going to talk to me, that would be great." His lips turned into a nasty sneer, pulling away from his teeth. "But I'm supposed to make sure  you don't get beat up. And if Mai saw you with me, a beat down would be the best case scenario. She'd murder you."

Katara blinked, stunned.

Zuko ran his hand over his face. "I know you're supposed to be able to take care of yourself. I know you don't want me lurking over your shoulder for the rest of your life. But if Mai and my sister decided they needed to go house on you because of  _ me _ ?" He shook his head. "I couldn't live with that."

Katara didn't know exactly what  _ that _ meant, but it made her heart beat just a little faster.

Sokka was heading in their direction, his eyes cold beneath his brows, but Katara didn't have time to really look at him. Instead, she kept her attention on Zuko, on his face, the brightness of his eyes which she was so unused to looking into. Zuko didn't like to look at her, she'd found, and because she'd always been taught to be polite, she didn't really make him. Or at least, he didn't like to look at her on her terms. He didn't like to make eye contact unless he'd decided to do it.

But now, it was her turn and she'd decided that looking at him was exactly what she wanted to be doing.

"Are you trying to protect me?" she asked quietly.

"Katara!" Sokka yelled. "Come on, you're gonna be late to class and I don't want to have to hear about it when you're all upset later!"

She ignored him.

"Of course I'm trying to protect you." Zuko ran his hand through his hair, clearly upset and frustrated by something, whether her or the situation, Katara couldn't tell. "That's our whole thing. We're not actually friends, Katara, don't be stupid. You know that. You know the only reason you deign to hang out with me is because I can do something for you. And I get it. That's the whole point, so it's not like I'm mad that you're doing what you said you'd be doing, you know?"

"That's not true!" Katara said, much louder than she meant to.

Sokka waved a hand at her as though giving up entirely, and grabbed Aang by the shoulder, dragging him off towards the doors despite all protests.

"Oh, it's not true, huh?" Zuko snapped. "Then why are you anywhere near me, Katara? I'm pretty sure it's not because of my meathead good looks."

"Because you're my friend, you dink!" Katara yelled at the top of her lungs.

Zuko froze.

His mouth opened silently, closed, then opened again.

He blinked once.

Then his eyes narrowed and he said accusingly, "No I'm not."

She slapped him in the chest, hard, her ring finger hitting the rivets on his jacket and sending a sharp pain up her arm. He stumbled back, but she didn't think that was from the force of her blow or because she'd hurt him, more because it was unexpected. "Shut up, Zuko," she said, glaring. "Shut your stupid fat mouth for once, or I'll ... I'll ..."

_ Kiss you _ , said an unexpected part of her brain.

"Punch you in the fucking face," Katra snapped to drown out  _ that _ unpleasant thought.

Zuko cocked his head to the side, staring at her in nearly that same strange, personal way he had the other night at the show. Having that kind of gaze on her again made Katara immediately uncomfortable, and she folded her arms as though the physical movement would block his gaze. It didn't. Instead, a little ghostly smile crept across his mouth.

"You know," he said softly, "you're a real pain in the ass."

"Fuck you," Katara told him.

He laughed. "Yes, and a real badass and not to be messed with, I get it. Lighten up."

She wanted to shove him again but they'd been loud enough that people were staring at them. She didn't need more people wondering about her life. It was too much as it was.

"Just ... just ..." She groped for the appropriate level of anger. "Stop trying to get out of being around me, okay? I get it, we've got all these deep and uncontrollable differences. We're so  _ different _ ." She spat the word so hard Zuko raised his eyebrow. "I get it, okay? But that doesn't mean we can't be friends."

"Fine," Zuko said and his voice had that soft quality again that made Katara's skin shiver just a little and raised the hair on her arms. "I'll stop complaining and accept your ... friendship."

"Good," Katara snapped.

"Good."

They stared at each other for a second and then, just when things were getting too much for Katara, the bell rang.

"Oh, darn it!" She grabbed her books from the still-open front seat of Sokka's car and slammed the door. "I'm going to be late."

"Sokka told you that," Zuko said. When she scowled at him, though, he only smiled and threw an arm around her shoulders. Katara jumped. While it wasn't like Zuko had never touched her before, he didn't really do it in public, and besides, even this felt like ... a strangely possessive kind of gesture. But no, that was crazy. She'd seen him do the same to Toph all the time. And Sokka couldn't seem to keep his hands off the guys on the football team; they were always jumping on each other and shoving each other around. It must be a boy thing.

His jacket smelled like old leather and cigarette smoke.

"You zoning out?" Zuko shook her.

"Shut up."

"Come on." He steered her towards the building. "What are they going to do if Perfect Katara is late? They'll have to cancel the whole day. Nothing like that could  _ ever _ happen."

"You know, you could offer to carry my books," she snapped.

He laughed. "Fat chance. Hurry up, or you'll be late."


	12. Don't Bring Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NaNoWriMo finished, and as promised, I have written a chapter. It's kind of filler, but it sets up a lot, I swear, and also ... it was fun to write. A lot of this was taken from my own childhood growing up in a really tight knit community (and having to take the bus all over), although in editing, my former New Yorker ass did have to take out every instance of "bodega".

 "So she doesn't have your car?" Katara asked.

They sat on the wall at the front of the school — Katara had a free period and Zuko was skipping his final class of the day. Katara kicked her legs against the stone under her heels, her eyes narrowed in concentration into the middle distance as though if she tried hard enough, she could will Zuko's car back into existence.

"No, she said she left it by some payphone," Zuko said. He flexed his hands against the wall, anxious. Though a lot of his brain was still singing with embarrassing glee over Katara's insistent friendship this morning, the car thing had become kind of an issue. He wanted it back and he was even more pissed at Mai for just dumping it somewhere.

"Yeah, you said it was the one on Fourth and Height Boulevard," Katara said. "I know where that is."

"Where?" Zuko hadn't said anything like that.

Katara rolled her eyes. "You described it and I know where it is. Just accept that as enough, would you? I can get you your stupid fancy car back, you big idiot."

"You know, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to insult me anymore," Zuko said.

Katara tapped her heels on the wall again and glanced away, which gave Zuko a look at the line of her neck into her shoulder, which was more distracting than he wished it was. He was relieved when she looked back, one eyebrow raised.

"But you got your keys?"

Zuko held them up, dangling from his fingers.

"Great. So, no big deal." Katara pulled one leg up and under her, leaving the other to bounce nervously. "Sokka's got practice after school though, so I have to take the bus home. You can come with me."

"You want me to get on a bus?" Zuko said.

She looked at him. "What are you, mental? Of course I want you to get one a bus."

"But ..." Zuko said and stopped, unable to find a way to tell her that he'd never had to take a bus before without sounding like a real asshole.

But she knew. "Oh, I'm sorry, is my bus not good enough for you?"

"Come on," Zuko said. "You have Sokka drive you every day you can. You can't tell me that you don't think the bus is pretty much the grodiest thing to come out of high school."

"Yeah, but I still have to get on it twice a week," Katara said as though she was talking to a child. "You don't see me bitching."

Zuko grumbled and shut up. He knew when to keep his mouth shut at least.

Katara checked her watch. "Besides,  _ I'm _ taking the bus and  _ I'm _ the only one who actually knows where your car is, so it looks like  _ you _ don't have a choice. I can't even ask Suki for a ride because she's got field hockey and they haven't kicked her off this year’s team yet."

Zuko, who'd hung around Katara enough to know what Suki's deal was, sighed. It was probably a good thing too, because Suki was a little more than he wanted to deal with. Katara was annoying enough without adding an overly invested friend.

"You have sixteen minutes to get used to it," Katara said.

Zuko made a face. "I don't want to."

"No one wants to," Katara said, grinning. "But we do it anyway. That's what being a high school student is all about."

Someone yelled Katara's name and she turned first. "Speak of the devil. Suki, don't you have class?"

"I ditched," Suki said, sliding to a stop a few feet away. "Hey, asshole." She grinned at Zuko despite the insult, taking the bite out of it. "What are you two doing?"

"Waiting for the bus," Zuko said. "Apparently."

"Heinous," Suki said. "Katara, bring him to the Friday night banger."

Katara's eyes got very wide. "Oh, um, yeah, well, I don't know about that."

"Come on." Suki slapped Katara's arm. "It'll be fun. You never come down anymore. Zuko, tell her she has to bring you and then you can be social. That'll be great, right?" She gave Zuko's shoulder a wack too and he lurched forward. "Right?"

Zuko contemplated the thought of suffering through a jock party and winced. "Hard pass."

"Mmm, sounds like you're on the fence," Suki said, squinting and rubbing her chin. "Let me sweeten the pot: if you don't come, Katara will owe me even more money than she already does."

Katara's face turned bright red and she coughed. "I didn't take that," she said, somewhat cryptically. "You're not getting any money out of me."

"That  _ is _ what I'm counting on," Suki said. "Double or nothing." She slapped Zuko's shoulder again. "Good talk, guys. I gotta get my stick out of my car before Coach gets up my ass about it at practice. See you Friday."

She leapt off the wall, landing on the asphalt parking lot with a quick one-two hop and strode off until she was lost between cars.

"Guess you're coming over on Friday," said Katara with the resigned tone of someone who had already given up on all their options.

"What if I decide not to crash some shitty house party?" Zuko said.

"Then Suki will wreck your day," Katara said. "Look, there's the bus."

Zuko sighed. First buses and now parties. Being friends with Katara was turning out to have a lot more downsides than originally expected.

But that didn't stop him from getting up and waiting with her in a milling pool of students until all the buses had arrived and the doors began folding back like paper screens. Standing slightly behind her left shoulder, he felt somehow too tall for this bus, as though it was made for children and he was a grown up pretending to be one of them. But that wasn't true, he thought, glancing down at Katara. It was just that generally all the juniors and seniors got to drive their own cars like real people. 

"Do I need to ... do anything?" he said, leaning down to Katara's ear.

She turned and gave him a long suffering look, which he probably deserved. "Of course not," she said, rolling her eyes. "It's just a bus."

“Well, it’s not like I know,” Zuko griped, because what else was he supposed to do? People were looking at him like he didn’t belong, which he didn’t. Instead he just followed Katara into the stairway of the bus and felt stupid.

It was louder than he’d imagined.

Even though Katara and Zuko been waiting in line, kids had rocketed onto the bus before them, so it was already half full. Katara pushed her way past the front seats of freshmen who had already begun to look to Zuko like babies, stopping briefly to talk to Aang, who had an open book and gave Zuko such a look of concern and horror that Zuko would have gotten off the bus then and there if there hadn’t been people behind him.

But after only a few seconds, Katara headed onwards towards the back of the bus where the kids were older. In his head, Zuko had been aware that of course this was an Aurora Heights bus, but he was still surprised by how many of the kids  _ looked _ like Katara. Not a family resemblance, but a similar coloring and style, and also some common features in the roundness of faces and the shape of eyes.

“Hey, Katara!” yelled one boy with hair that at the beginning of the day might have been styled but was now a wild halo, “Who’s this idiot?”

“Nunya,” Katara snapped, stopping by an empty seat with her arm on the back. She gestured for Zuko to awkwardly scoot in first, not looking away from the boy. “That’s first name Nunya, last name Business, Kovri, you pain in my ass.”

“I’d love to be a pain in your ass,” Kovri said and high fived the boy in the seat behind him. “But you’re too stuck up to let anyone from the Heights get anywhere near it.”

“Bite me,” Katara said, rolling her eyes and flopping into the seat next to Zuko, who was trying to figure out how to get his knees out of the way, since they were basically shoved up his nose. The seat was small and at first he was annoyed at Katara for making him sit pressed against the window, but then he realized she’d done it to make herself a barrier between him and the rest of the bus.

Which, in a weird way, was very sweet of her.

“I can sit over there,” he said softly.

“Don’t be stupid,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t mind Korvi, he’s a moron. Dropped on his head at birth probably.”

“I heard that!” Kovri yelled.

“You were supposed to!” Katara yelled back. “Everyone knows your mama would sell you if she could!”

The older kids in the back laughed and a girl with short hair even curlier than Katara’s leaned over the back of the seat, dangling long arms down between the two of them. “Hey girl,” she said, “but seriously, who is this?”

Zuko looked at Katara too, disconcerted by being talked about like he wasn’t there. It was also weird to find that while he’s become used to Katara not fitting in with her popular former friends, here she clearly belonged. But maybe this wasn’t where she wanted to belong?

Zuko shook his head. He just wanted someone to talk to him with as much familiarity as Katara’s neighbors had with her.

“Hohalla, this is Zuko,” Katara said, a little more formal now, though a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Zuko, meet my least annoying neighbor.”

“Hey,” Zuko said.

“He your boyfriend?” Hohalla asked. “Because the last one worked out so well?”

“Not my boyfriend,” Katara said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve learned my lesson about dating out of my league.”

Hohalla snorted. “Woman, your league is ‘sane people’ and yeah, maybe you should stay in that. But also, you gotta stop trying to catch some rich husband. They’re all dicks.” She raised an eyebrow at Zuko. “You a rich dick?”

“Zuko,” Katara said, grinning at him in a way he didn’t like, “has to take the bus today because he dumped his girlfriend in his own Camero on Saturday night and, get this, just left her in it instead of kicking her out.”

There was a series of horrified groans from around them and Zuko realized that all the older kids were now listening in, standing up or kneeling on the brown plastic of the bus seats in order to get a better look at the conversation.

“What the hell, man?” Kovri said, shaking his head in what appeared to be legitimate distress. “Why would you do that?”

“I got mad,” Zuko said, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, which was somewhat difficult given that there were people looking at him from every direction. He tried to give them a full view of his scar, which usually scared people off, but there was no reaction. These kids were apparently immune to his usual tricks.

“But why’s he on our bus?” Hohalla asked.

“She left the car in the Heights,” Katara said, shrugging. “Also, his uncle lives with us, on Fifth and Lily. Mr. Iroh?”

Hohalla looked at Zuko with new eyes, appraising rather than judgemental. “Your uncle is Mr. Iroh? He makes a tea that my mom swears by for her back pain. Everyone likes him. I guess you can’t be all bad.” She glanced at Katara. “Maybe you did better with this one than the last one.”

Katara rolled her eyes. “He’s my friend, Hohalla, don’t blow it out of proportion.”

“Mmmm,” Hohalla said, smiling like she knew something. “So, Mr. Iroh Jr., you got anything to say for yourself?”

“Like what?” Zuko asked.

Hohalla shrugged. The bus finally pulled away and Zuko jounced slightly against the seat as it started up, his leg bouncing off Katara’s knee. He pulled further against the window so it didn’t happen again. "I don't know, I thought you'd have something," Hohalla said. "You're pretty quiet, huh? I know Katara's one of those pains in the ass who never shuts up —”

"Hey!"

" _ But _ you're quiet even for someone around her. Do you talk? Or do rich idiots who abandon their pretty cars with their ex-girlfriends just stay quiet? It doesn't sound like a real low profile thing to do."

Zuko found himself glancing at Katara, in what should have been annoyance but felt more like fond frustration. "Why did you have to tell everyone my business?" he said quietly.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Hohalla said, rolling her eyes. "Most of us have known each other for so long, we know everything about each other anyway. Like for example, I know all kinds of stuff about Katara that she wouldn't want —”

"Okay!" Katara said loudly, smiling without using her eyes and clapping her hands together. "Enough about me, okay, nice to see you, Hohalla, go away now!"

Hohalla started laughing and slid off the back of the seat and out of sight. Zuko glanced across the aisle as the bus made a turn, but Kovri seemed busy throwing balled up pieces of paper over the seats in front of him. Katara sighed, shaking her head, but she didn't seem nervous around these people, just tired. Which she looked often, and he couldn't necessarily blame her.

"All right," he said suddenly, making a decision he immediately felt like he was about to regret. "I'll come to your jock party."

"It's actually Sokka's party," Katara said, tipping her head to the side, curls falling over her shoulder. "But okay."

"But," Zuko said, holding up his hand, "you have to do something with me."

Katara's eyebrows slammed down and her mouth opened immediately, a shock of white teeth bared in anger.

"Chill, Katara, not like that," Zuko snapped.

Her mouth closed again.

"I'll go to this thing from your life," Zuko said, "if on Saturday after that, you come to a concert with me."

Katara's head tilted to the side and for some reason her cheeks went somewhat red. "Did we already go to a show together?" she asked.

Immediately, Zuko remembered Mai kissing him, the feel of her hands on his chest, her cold lips on his mouth, as he watched Katara watching him, and looked away before his face betrayed him in a way he would regret. "We didn't go together," he said, aware that his voice was more gruff than usual and somehow unable to stop it. "We just happened to end up at the same one. And that's not what I mean. I don't want to go see some synth whore band that Ty Lee picked out. There's a punk show —”

"Wait a second," Katara said, holding up her hands as though to fend off the very idea. "You think  _ I _ should go to a punk show? Zuko, have you  _ seen _ me?"

Zuko shrugged as though he didn't know what she was talking about, although he absolutely did. Katara, in her white blouse and calf-length floral skirt, didn't look like someone who would go to the crappy, stick-floored clubs that Zuko frequented. But he didn't really care about that.

"That's exactly my point," he said, leaning back against the cold window of the bus and putting his elbow up on the back of the seat. "You'll fit in about as well there as I will at your brother's party. So it seems only fair that I get to turn the tables on you."

Katara groaned. "But I don't  _ like _ that garbage."

"And I don't like watching football players get drunk and throw each other out windows, but here we are."

He watched her face, recognizing the signs that he was winning — the way her mouth seemed to slide back and forth across her face as she thought, the narrowing of the eyes that implied both worry and also a vanishing of her escape route from this conversation. It amazed him how good he was getting at reading her moods and facial expressions. He'd never been able to do that with Mai, who was basically like talking to a stone statue. For a brief second, he entertained a thought about how much easier it would be to date Katara, who was filled with emotion, but at least told you which emotions they were.

And then he realized he was thinking about  _ dating Katara _ and stopped. 

_ You're not into me and I'm not into you and that's kind of the end of it,  _ she'd told him once, with her jaw scraped up and still as tight and stubborn as ever.  _ It just wouldn't make sense, now would it. _

It wouldn't make any sense. She was right.

Katara groaned and broke him out of his thoughts. She put her hand up to cover her eyes and sighed again, even more deeply. "All right," she said, more a whine then words. "Fine. Whatever."

"See?" Zuko said, incapable of hiding a smile at her pain. "Was that so hard?"

She glared at him.

The bus, which hadn't made any stops yet, began to slow down and Katara looked around. "Okay, so we're almost there," she said. "We've just got to get to Fourth. It's gonna be a couple minutes to walk, maybe a block or two, I can never remember —”

"Isn't the bus supposed to drop you off at home?" Zuko asked.

She gave him a look. "I mean,  _ yeah _ , but this isn't really that far away. Besides, everyone knows everyone else here, so everyone's always going somewhere they ... you know, shouldn't."

"And they just  _ let _ you?" Zuko asked, somewhat incredulous.

Katara's expression turned tired and she sighed yet again. "Yes, Zuko, they just let you. This isn't like where you live, where everyone is always worried about where their kids are at all times. They baby us less."

"That's not what I —”

The bus stopped again and Katara said, "Oh good let's go," and was up and halfway down the aisle before Zuko figured out that she was moving.

He followed her, hips bumping against the bus seats as he moved. Aang looked up at Katara and asked something, his voice high and light, and Katara shook her head, then jerked a thumb at Zuko. The look Aang shot him over the back of the seat, where Katara couldn't see, was filled with malice, but Zuko wasn't worried about that. He just shrugged in Aang's direction and, as he passed, said "I'll drive her home, don't worry."

"Don't you touch her," Aang hissed — Katara was already on the bus steps, too far away to hear him.

Zuko rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to touch her, kid. And even if I did, it wouldn't be any of your business. Back off."

Aang did not back off, so instead Zuko just got off the bus and watched Aang's round face press itself to the glass, watching him with hard, gray eyes.

"Jesus, that kid has it out for me," Zuko said.

Katara, who was looking around as though Zuko's car would be right here even though she'd just said they'd have to walk, rolled her eyes. "Ignore him," she said. "I don't know what his problem is, but just ignore him."

She started walking and Zuko fell into step beside her. "Do you really not know what's wrong with him?"

"No, of course not. I'm assuming it's puberty."

"It's not," Zuko said. "He's got a crush on you and he thinks I'm moving in on his territory."

" _Excuse me_?" Katara stopped on the sidewalk outside a small corner store, and looked at him. "Are you kidding?"

"No."

"Whatever." She shook her head, clearly still not believing him, and turned, pushing open the door of the little store. "Come on, I need a soda."

Zuko followed her into the little dimly lit store with its tight aisles and high shelves reaching over his head. A string of bells dinged as they slapped against the glass door as Zuko let go of it, blinking until his eyes adjusted.

"Hi, Mr. Wan," Katara said loudly, waving at the old man behind the counter. "How's Kona?"

"Oh, good, good," the man said, adjusting his glasses. "Due any day now, thanks for asking. Who's your friend?"

"This is Zuko." Katara reached out and squeezed Zuko's forearm, surprising him. "I'm tutoring him for school." Her hand clenched a little more and she muttered, "Say hello."

"Hello," Zuko parroted.

Mr. Wan chortled. "Katara, you don't have to mother everyone you meet you know."

"Thanks, Mr. Wan," Katara said in an exasperated tone, moving deeper into the store, where a glass-fronted cooler glowed slightly. She opened it and took out a Coke, then looked at Zuko with raised brows. "You want one?"

"I'm good."

"I'm getting you one anyway." She took out a second soda and made her way back up to the counter, continuing her conversation with the owner as though she hadn't interrupted herself. "I'll make sure to tell Sokka that he has to do things on his own now. Did he clean your gutters out for you yet?"

"Of course he did," Mr. Wan said, ringing up Katara’s purchases on a cash register old enough to have belonged to his grandfather. "Your grandmother made sure he came over, and he's always so helpful."

"Once you can get him off the couch," Katara complained.

Mr. Wan laughed again. "Stop fighting with your brother. It'll be a dollar seventy-eight, sweetheart."

Katara shoved her hand into her bag, but Zuko — with a reaction time that he hadn't expected from himself, pulled two crumpled dollar bills from his back pocket and handed them over, trying to smooth them on the way. "I got it," he said, tall enough to offer the money to Mr. Wan over Katara's shoulder.

"No, don't —”

Mr. Wan took the money, giving Katara a pointed look. "I like this one, Katara. Are you sure you're just tutoring him?"

Katara rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mr. Wan, we're just friends."

"Mmm," said Mr. Wan, sucking his teeth. "A good boy always pays for the girl."

"That's pretty old fashioned," Katara protested as Mr. Wan handed Zuko his change. "I'm a modern woman —”

"Don't listen to an old man then," said Mr. Wan, grinning at Zuko. "I don't know anything at all, that's what you kids are always telling me. I just think he'd make a good boyfriend, don't you think?"

Zuko, who was really starting to get tired of the assumptions of everyone around him, put the change back down on the counter. "Keep it," he said. "She doesn't want me."

Katara glared at him.

Mr. Wan laughed and Katara gave Zuko a quick shove in the small of his back, pushing him towards the door. He went, saying, "Goodbye, Mr. Wan!" over his shoulder because he knew it would piss Katara off.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a pain in the ass?" Katara said, glaring and opening one of the bottles, shoving the other into Zuko's chest so hard he stumbled.

"It's been mentioned." Zuko took the plastic bottle, even though he didn't want it, and cracked the seal. "Why does everyone in your neighborhood want us to bump uglies?"

Katara's brown face went dark red. "I don't ... that's not ... they didn't say  _ that _ ," she said, ducking her head so her hair fell into her face. "Why does everything with you have to go ...  _ that far _ ?"

Zuko shrugged. "All right, all right, I'll stop making you  _ uncomfortable _ ." He took a sip of soda without really thinking about it, and shrugged. "Which way is this payphone?"

Katara pointed and Zuko fell in beside her as she set off. As they walked, he was able to take a moment to look her over as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light. Despite the chill beginning to creep into the air as fall progressed, Katara still wore flats and her legs were bare from the end of her skirt to her ankles. Her arms too were bare except for the silver bracelet on her left wrist, and Zuko, who was already cold, wondered how she was able to handle this level of chill without getting worried. 

"Aren't you cold?" he asked.

Katara shook her head, and put on a voice that he thought might be an imitation of the grandmother she always talked about but who he'd never met. "It takes more than this to make me cold," she said as though that was something she took great pride in. "It's a family trait."

"Must be nice," Zuko grumbled.

"Don't be a baby."

He tapped Katara on top of the head with the bottom of a soda bottle like she was a child he was keeping in line. "No need for that."

"Oh look," Katara said in her sugary angry voice, the one that made Zuko deeply uncomfortable every time he heard it. "There's your car."

Zuko grinned and hurried up so he got to the car before she did, giving it a brief once-over as he pulled the keys from his pocket. "Got it. I knew Mai was crazy, but she's not crazy enough to try to steal my car."

"Probably because you loved it better than you loved her," Katara grumbled. She hoisted her bag higher on her shoulders and sighed. "All right. You got the car. Can you get home from here?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Good." She rolled her eyes. "Then I'll just go —”

"Don't be dumb," Zuko said, unlocking the car. "I'll give you a ride home."

"It's two blocks away," Katara said, scowling.

Zuko leaned on the roof of the car, arms extended towards her. "What's your deal?" he asked. 

Katara's eyes flickered around the street as though even the nearby unlit lights had eyes and ears. "Nothing. What do you mean?"

"Why are you so skittish? This morning it was all 'we're friends, you can't run away from me' and now you don't want to be seen with me? Oh, how the tables have turned."

"It's not like that," Katara said, though her eyes told another story. "That's not what I said."

Still leaning on the car, Zuko snorted. "You didn't need to say it," he said. "It's written all over your face. I'm not stupid, you know."

Katara sighed and bit her lip, which Zuko noticed a lot more than he wanted to.

"Just get in the car," he said.

Thankfully, Katara did. Once seated, though, she started twisting her hands into the straps of her bag as though she found some kind of comfort from cutting off her blood flow.

"What's wrong?" Zuko said, adjusting his legs in the front seat and closing the door.

"Everyone here knows me," Katara said, as though closing a door between her and the rest of the world suddenly allowed her to open her mouth. "Most of them know my entire family too. Mr. Wan isn't really an exception, he's the  _ rule _ . And I hate getting questions about my personal life. I hate that they know all these things I don't want them to. I love them, I love living here, and it's so important to me that we keep taking care of each other but ..." She trailed off and shook her head.

"But you're tired of not getting to just have your own business?" Zuko said.

"Exactly! No secrets."

"Do you want to keep me secret?" Zuko said, grinning, and was horrified by how sultry and suggestive his voice came out sounding, as though his vocal cords had a plan all their own. Immediately, he coughed, hoping that would cover it.

Maybe it worked, but more likely Katara was just wrapped up in being upset because she just shook her head. "Not exactly. I don't mind being friends with you, Zuko. I don't mind you coming here. I think everyone should come to the Heights sometime and get to experience how ... vibrant it is. But I don't think you should have to get the third degree when you do."

"You're tired of being treated like you need a boyfriend," Zuko said in a sudden uncharacteristic flash of brilliant insight.

"Bingo."

Feeling better, Zuko turned the key and without any of the trouble he'd expected, the car started up. "All right,"  he said with a shrug. "That's easy enough, since I'm not trying to be your boyfriend."

There was a pause as Katara glanced at the window, hands still twisting in her lap. 

"Sorry I took it out on you," she muttered.

Glad she couldn't see him, Zuko grinned like an idiot. "Did you just apologize to me?"

"Hey, look, I apologize!" Katara snapped, then more quietly added, "Sometimes."

"And lo," Zuko said dramatically, waving one hand like a Shakespearian actor, "on this day a miracle did occur, as Katara said the forbidden word ... sorry."

"Screw you," Katara huffed. "If you weren't driving, I'd try out some more of those self defense moves on you."

Zuko laughed. "You'll have plenty of time to beat me up. Here's your house." He pulled up and stopped in front. "Tell Aang I didn't do anything terrible to you, okay? Reassure the poor kid."

Katara opened the door, grumbling, then turned around and leaned back down, making uncomfortable eye contact. "You're still going to come over on Friday, right?" she said.

Unable to come up with a good excuse, Zuko said, "Yeah, of course. As long as you come out with me on Saturday, remember."

Katara's mouth crinkled up at one side. "Okay, fine. You win. I'm a sucker for not having to suffer one of Sokka's parties alone. Thanks for the ride."

"Thanks for helping me find my car."

Katara smiled, a real smile that Zuko so rarely got to see on her often scowling face, and closed the door.

He watched her walk up to the house, unlock the door, and head inside, brushing her hair off her shoulder as she did in a thoughtless gesture that still made Zuko a little bit nervous. What had he been  _ thinking _ to say he wasn't trying to be her boyfriend? No, but he wasn't. That wasn't the point. Just because she was pretty and tough and he ... well, he couldn't deny liking that ...

No, this was stupid. She was his  _ friend _ , and besides, he'd broken up with Mai less than a week ago.

Confident she couldn't see him, Zuko put his head on the steering wheel, and groaned.


	13. Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is ten thousand words, how is it ten THOUSAND words?
> 
> I need to update tags for this story I guess but suffice to say there's a lot of shitty parental abuse stuff in this one and more to come later, so if you don't like that, be warned.
> 
> Eventually this month will end and I will be better about writing but it's a rough time of year. Happy Hanukkah, y'all, and I guess there are some other holidays coming up too? That's the rumor I've heard.

"You’re home," Azula said from the doorway.

"Don't get used to it." Zuko didn't even look up from his bed, where he had his duffle bag open and was shoving a handful of clean t-shirts into it. "I'm leaving again as soon as I get these. Don't tell anyone I was here."

Azula didn't say anything and that made Zuko worried enough to look up.

She was still wearing the clothing she'd had on at school where he'd alst seen her, albeit briefly between classes. Her hair was perfectly quaffed, her eyelids covered with red shadow, and her black denim skirt and red blouse were completely wrinkle free. She looked perfect, as usual, but also somehow fake in a way that he'd never noticed before.

"What?" he said.

"You dumped Mai."

He'd forgotten they hadn't talked about this. It had been almost a week now and the lightness Zuko felt about not having to pretend to not care about someone he wanted to care about was intoxicating. He was less mad at Mai too — it wasn't her fault she was wired like that — and more he was just happy for himself and his own sudden freedom.

But he'd been avoiding Mai anyway, after the car thing, so he hadn't really talked to Azula either. Maybe it was her he'd really been avoiding.

"Yeah," he said, pausing what he was doing and straightening up. "I did. Are you mad at me?"

"Yes," Azula said.

"Sorry."

Azula brushed her hair out of her face. "Whatever. I always knew that Mai could do better than you anyway, so I don't know why I even care. I'm just mad you hurt my friend."

"Are you?" he said, because asking  _ is Mai really your friend? _ would have gotten him a punch in the mouth.

"Isn't that how I'm supposed to feel?" Azula shot back.

Zuko groaned and went to get some more pants. "Sure, Azula. I guess it is. Maybe you should go watch some more high school comedy movies so you can figure out how human beings act."

She sighed. "See, now I'm upset that you're hurting  _ me _ ."

"You're incapable of being hurt," Zuko snapped.

Azula laughed, a brittle sound that made the air feel thin and chilled. "You're right."

Finally done packing, Zuko hoisted the bag up onto his shoulder and walked over to the door. Azula didn't move. When he drew even with her, he looked down and pressed his lips together. She was a bitch, but she was still his sister, and he did love her even though she was ... well, "the worst person imaginable" seemed to be putting it too mildly. 

So he reached out and ruffled her perfect hair because he knew she hated it.

Sure enough, Azula screeched like a howler monkey and whacked at his hand, trying to get it off her. Zuko laughed, then said, "Ow, goddammit, ow!" as she started whacking him in the arm with the back of her hand.

"You suck, Zuko," she snapped at him.

"You know where I'll be," Zuko said, pushing past her and out of the range of her flailing hands. "Don't tell Dad I was here or he'll be a real buttmunch about it. See you at school!"

"Screw you!" Azula yelled after him, but he ignored her. Instead, he got out of the quiet, oppressive house as fast as he could, out of the overly done up rooms with their turn of the century furnishings and the unsmiling portraits of his ancestors in uncomfortable looking high collared suits. He breathed more easily once he was outside, heading for his car parked on the road, and even better once he was in it and driving away faster than the legal limit.

Iroh was right. He needed to just officially move out.

The thought made him sick.

He slowed down when he reached Aurora Hill, as he'd been doing a lot more lately. Something Katara said had stuck with him, about learning to appreciate the community there. And she was right. It was vibrant and inviting in a way his own sterile neighborhood wasn't. There were more people out in this area as well — kids chasing balls down streets they probably shouldn't be playing on, a group of teenage girls in loose dresses and Army Navy surplus jackets chatting on the corner with cigarettes in their hands, old men playing mahjong on a table set up on the sidewalk, their arms bare even in the late fall air.

It wasn't as pretty as where Zuko was from, but it was  _ alive _ .

He got back to Iroh's and parked the car, lugging his clothing inside. Iroh was cooking. "How's my brother?" he called from the kitchen.

"Not there."

"Good." There was a record on, something from Iroh's own childhood — Rat Pack bullshit again, Zuko thought, rolling his eyes. "I'd hate for you to have to deal with him if you don't have to. Are you having dinner here?"

"I think so," Zuko said. He put his bag down on the couch and wandered over to the kitchen door, the closest Iroh let him get to helping out in his domain. "Katara invited me to a party."

Iroh looked up, eyes glittering. "The pretty girl who's 'tutoring' you?" The way he said "tutoring" made it clear that he knew there hadn't been a single book involved with Katara's coming over. "That sounds nice. I am so glad to know you are out socializing with people your own age. I worry about you, Zuko, without any friends."

"Yeah, okay." Zuko reached one long arm into the kitchen and snagged a chunk of bell pepper from the board Iroh was using to cut them. He shoved it in his mouth while Iroh looked on in disapproval. "Anyway," Zuko said, biting down with his back teeth so the pepper crunched in an agressive, satisfying way, "I'll be out late, but I'll just be a few blocks away."

"But you'll eat first?" Iroh said.

"Yeah, I'll eat first." Zuko rolled his eyes, knowing it would be impossible to get out of this house without putting some food in his stomach. It was just the way Iroh was, his insistence on feeding anyone who walked in the door, or even passed by on the street.

So it took Zuko another hour to get ready to go out. Darkness had already fallen, the night coming earlier and earlier as winter approached. A few stars had begun to blossom in the sky above, just barely visible beyond the streetlights, as Zuko closed the door behind him and stuck his chilly hands in the pockets of his jacket. He turned down the street, walking with his shoulders up and his head down, still wondering how she'd talked him into this.

He heard the party before he saw it.There was loud, and then there was the sound coming out of Katara's house. He'd only seen it on a quiet morning here and there when he'd come to pick her up or drop her off after school when the street was full of laughing kids but no one else. Now it was a whole different scene. Cars were parked on the street for at least a block leading up to the house. Music played at a deafening volume and Zuko wondered how the neighbors hadn't called the police yet. There were people perched on the tiny porch under the light, kids he recognized from school, or from the few football games he'd been forced to attend, or from the bus earlier that week, and there were more people heading for the door. It seemed impossible that the tiny house could support all of the visitors on the street, much less anyone already inside.

Zuko wavered on the sidewalk outside the house, then remembered that he'd promised Katara he would come and there was really no way out of this. Smoke curled in the air over his onlookers heads, coiling and circling like snakes under the porch light. They all looked ... well, it was funny now because a few weeks ago, he would have just lumped them in as "the popular crowd" but now he knew both that that wasn't technically true, but also, he knew their names.

"Kovri, right?" he said the kid leaning against the railing.

"Yeah, hey." Kovri reached out and slapped Zuko on the arm. "Katara's latest bad decision. See, I knew she was being coy, but I figured that you'd be around sooner or later. She's got a type."

Zuko raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, you know, kind of a bad boy thing." Kovri laughed and the group laughed with him, seemingly more comfortable now that Kovri was talking to Zuko instead of just staring at him. "You heard what happened to the last one? He went crazy and stabbed someone."

"Yeah," Zuko growled. "He stabbed  _ me _ ."

"Oh, shit," Kovri said, blue eyes going wide. "Ah, fuck, man, that's fucked up. Wait so why are you ... and Katara?"

"I'm not dating Katara," Zuko said, for what he figured would be the first of many times tonight. "You're right. That would be fucking weird."

Kovri nodded sagely. "Too true. Have fun, man." And he turned away, back to a previous conversation, and let Zuko walk into the house by himself.

If he'd thought it was loud from the outside, he was completely unprepared for what it was like inside.

Zuko had been to plenty of music shows in his day where the squealing hiss of feedback was a general part of the atmosphere, but this was something else entirely. This wasn't  _ built _ for the noise it was trying to contain. And there were no massive speakers here, no logical way for it to get as loud as it had. And yet, here he was, blinking and working his jaw to try to alleviate the sudden pressure on his ears from the yelling around him.

He stood in a sea of shoulder-to-shoulder humanity.

The house, which the last time he'd been here had been a quiet, small residence clearly decorated by an older woman and lived in by two teenage kids, was packed so tightly that he could barely move. There were people everywhere, sitting on every piece of furniture, hanging over the kitchen counters, standing in any space they could find. The riot of color from patterned shirts and scrunchies and patches on jean jackets made Zuko's head ache. The music was deafening but the people were louder and he couldn't figure out what was being played.

"Holy shit," he muttered.

A few people around him moved away — he knew he didn't look like he belonged there, given that he wasn't wearing a letterman and didn't have the shoulders of a wrestler. The more he looked around, the more he realized this wasn't a nice rich kid party. There was a look to most of the kids here of something tougher than that. There were neighborhood kids — a lot of them — and athletes, but no one who looked ... well, it definitely wasn't the kind of thing Katara's former friends would have attended.

And no one was breaking anything. That was the wildest part. He'd seen parties were furniture ended up on fire, but while the house was clearly messier than it was supposed to be, it wasn't in pieces.

"Hey!" someone, a girl, yelled over the noise. "Yo, Zuko!"

He turned and saw Suki making her way towards him, her face bright with a kind of wild light that he didn't like. She had a red cup in one hand. "Hey, Zuko, holy shit, she managed it?"

"Who managed what?" he yelled back as Suki got closer.

"Katara! She made you come to this fucking disaster. I can't believe it, how'd she do it?" Suki grinned, too wide and too suggestive. "Did she give you something?"

"I'd hate to be your friend," Zuko told her.

"Yeah, whatever. Come on." She grabbed Zuko's elbow and physically dragged him across the room. "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" Zuko ducked to avoid someone's swinging arm, ears already aching. Suki got through the crowd using elbows and what might have been charm but was likely just a kind of manic reputation for violence, which was about the same thing. Either way, people got out of her way and Zuko was — mostly — able to coast along in her wake like a dinghy after a clipper ship.

Suki glanced back over her shoulder at him, eyes narrowed and smile so wide he thought her face might split. "You're not here for any of this," she said as though it was common knowledge. "We have to go get Katara. The whole point of this was to get her out of her room, so let's go."

Zuko couldn't argue with that, and so he went.

Suki dragged him up the narrow carpeted stairs and into the hall above. It was quieter up here, though that may have been because the hall was so narrow that it would have been hard to fit anyone in it at all. A few kids leaned against one door, laughing, and Zuko guessed it was the bathroom. There were three other doors up here, all set very close together, close enough to indicate that the rooms behind them weren't particularly spacious. Bedrooms, he assumed, as Suki stopped at one door with a delicate paper cut out of a seal on it, tried the knob, and then knocked.

"What?" came Katara's annoyed voice, the tone familiar.

"Why are you locking your door now?" Suki yelled back.

A moment of silence inside the room and then a click as the lock opened. Suki was already trying the knob again, but the door opened first and revealed Katara, still in the purple collared shirt tucked into light jeans that she'd worn to school that day. "I locked it to stop you from bursting in whenever you want," Katara said sourly, running a hand through her hair and shaking it over her shoulder — Zuko found himself following the motion of the curls in rapt fascination, and stopped. Her eyes drifted up. "Oh, hi Zuko. You finally got here." Her teeth flashed in a grin. "I thought you'd wussed out."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he grumbled.

Suki, apparently blind to any rules of hospitality, pushed past Katara, still pulling Zuko behind her. The room was ... well, Zuko settled on "cute" and stuck with it, though really, had he expected anything else from Katara? It wasn't a child's room, exactly — not  _ that _ cute — but it certainly didn't seem like the room of a seventeen-year-old girl. Somewhere in the middle, as though sometime maybe four or five years ago, Katara had gotten too busy to keep the room looking like the person who lived in it. The walls were lavender, and instead of posters like some of the girls Zuko knew — namely Ty Lee — the walls were decorated with an odd collection of art prints, photos of sea creatures, and pressed flowers. Instead of looking neat and orderly in the manner of an adult living room, they were scattered wildly, each one seeming added to a new patch of space without much thought to the direct composition.

The bed was made up with white sheets and a blue comforter, the metal frame old and somewhat battered, white paint chipping off it. It looked as though it had once been pretty, and the bones of it still were, but there was something aged about it, and about the small dresser and the pink shag carpet that clearly needed to be replaced as it had gone from rose to something closer to bleached  bone in the more high traffic areas.

It was very neat. That part didn't surprise Zuko at all.

On the bed, socked feet pulled up close to him, was Aang, looking annoyed that Zuko dared exist as usual. He had a book in his hands, the cover hidden by his knees though Zuko could tell it was thick and the pages were yellow with age and use. Aang was also wearing the same clothes he had at school — khaki slacks, a yellow and red striped shirt — and looked as though the bottom corner of the bed where he was curled was "his spot".

Suki sighed. "Katara, when are you going to learn to dress up for these things?"

"When I start caring about them," Katara said blandly, walking over to the bed and closing the textbook she'd clearly been perusing. "Get real, Suki, who am I going to dress up for?"

Suki tilted her head and widened her eyes in a significant manner and jerked her thumb at Zuko.

"He sees me every day," Katara said, rolling her eyes. "Zuko doesn't care."

Zuko, for his own part, thought about how she'd looked at Ty Lee's concert, with her short skirt and the light playing on her collar bones, and said, "Nope, do not care."

Suki rolled her eyes. "Okay, so do it for yourself."

"Myself also doesn't care." Katara sighed. "You gotta stop trying, Suki. It's starting to get embarrassing for you that —”

Suki, apparently never one to be outdone, whirled on Zuko with an unholy gleam in her eyes and said, "Zuko, do you think Katara looks pretty?"

Zuko's stomach froze solid. "Uh," he said, eyes flicking around the room so he didn't have to look at anyone in particular. "Uuuuuh."

"Katara always looks pretty," said Aang quietly, and then immediately put his book between his face and the rest of the room.

"Thanks, Aang, for your contribution," Suki said, rolling her eyes, "but I was asking Zuko."

"Stop it, Suki," Katara said, putting a hand on Suki's shoulder and gently pulling her away from Zuko. "Don't torture him like that. Zuko's type is ... edgier. I'm definitely not it."

That was completely untrue, but Zuko didn't know if denying it would get him in more trouble or less. It was hard to tell right now. Every movement in this conversation felt like walking through a minefield. Someone was going to get mad no matter what he did.

"Zuko," Suki snapped, "tell her she's pretty."

"She's pretty," Zuko said, rolling his eyes to make it seem more like Suki's idea than his, because that was safe enough. As he'd expected, Katara laughed, but her eyes didn't quite meet his.

"Now tell her she'd be prettier if she stopped dressing like my mom," Suki insisted.

"Get real, I'm not going to say that," Zuko said, deciding he was done with this conversation. "That seems like a really bad idea in terms of 'things to say to girls' and I don't want to, you know, die. I have a reputation to maintain and that reputation involves not getting taken out by a junior girl in her purple bedroom."

Suki huffed in annoyance but didn't push the subject.

Over her head, Katara met his eyes and mouthed, "Thank you," and then as though that wasn't enough, added silently, "Sorry."

Zuko shrugged. He wasn't totally unfamiliar with the way girls acted with their friends. He thought this was friendly, at least. It was a little hard to tell.

"So, he came," Suki said, waving one hand. "We had a deal that if he came, you'd come out of your room."

Katara squished her face up as though she'd bitten into a lemon. "I didn't say that," she said. "You seem to think I agreed to a lot of deals that I actually didn't. I don't know where you get your information, Suki, but —”

"Please?" Suki said, pressing her hands together under her chin. "Pleasey weasy, Katara, pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"You're the most annoying person I know," Katara said. She glanced at Aang. "You going to be okay up here on your own?"

Aang shrugged, then forced a smile. "I'll be fine," he said. "Maybe I'll come down too."

"We'd love to have you," Katara said in a way that made it clear that she actually would but was also deeply concerned about how Aang would handle it. "But don't worry about it if you don't want to."

"If you want company," Zuko said, suddenly remembering, "I could call Toph and have her come over. You two are kind of friends, right? She wouldn't mind."

"No," Aang said sharply. "That's okay." And then, from between gritted teeth, he said, "Thanks anyway."

It had cost the kid a lot to say that, so Zuko shrugged and said, "No big."

And then Suki opened the door and shoved them both back into the hallway and the noise pushing up at them from downstairs.

Zuko only had a second to glance at Katara, whose mouth was a thin white line, before he had to make his way down the stairs and try not to die on the way. The steepness of the stairs coupled by the fact that he was trying to walk down them with Suki and Katara right behind him made him feel like he was going to fall into the depths of the party at any second and he kept one hand wrapped around the worn railing the whole way down, just in case. It was good too because Suki had already had a couple of drinks and her movements were slightly more wild than they really needed to be.

As soon as his feet hit the floor of the downstairs hall — hard to do given that there wasn't much space, Suki shoved past him and dived back into the crowd like a penguin entering the water without so much as a splash. Which left him standing at the bottom of the stairs next to Katara, who looked tired and annoyed, and he couldn't blame her for that.

"I hate these things," she yelled.

Zuko raised an eyebrow. "Didn't Suki said you used to come to them?"

Katara's blue eyes rolled dramatically. "Yeah, when I was dating Jet, that son of a bitch. He wasn't really super into Sokka's friends, but he liked to be seen and so I kind of had to be here."

Zuko shook his head. "I don't understand that."

"Don't you know anyone who just wanted everyone to see that they were cooler than anyone else?" Katara said.

"Yeah, my sister and my dad are just like that," Zuko said, aware that his voice was scratchier than he wanted it to be, the way it got whenever he talked about his family. "I just try not to give a lot of thought to it."

"Sorry you're so much better than other people," Katara grumbled. "Do you want something to drink? I'm going to get something. There's probably beer and punch, so that's your choice."

"Beer," Zuko said, and followed along behind her as she made her way into the kitchen. "Your grandmother lets you drink?"

"As long as we don't get the police called on us, and we don't fail any classes, Gran-Gran doesn't care what we do." Katara moved slowly through people, stopping sometimes to smile at someone who called her name. The press of people kept Zuko close to her, so her shoulders brushed his chest as she turned. "She works a lot, you know."

The kitchen was still full of people, but in a different way than the living room. A couple of girls in short skirts that showed off muscular legs — more field hockey players — smiled at Katara as they came in, their eyes flicking to Zuko's face and then away. "You came out of your room," one said.

Katara shrugged. "Gotta eat sometime," she said.

"Have some punch," the other one said, getting her a cup and filling it from a bowl of red-pink liquid, a green plastic ladle lying against the side. She pushed the drink at Katara. "You want some, hot stuff?"

It took Zuko a second to realize the girl was talking to him —  _ hot stuff _ ? — but he shook his head after a second.

"He'll have a beer," Katara said and the laugh in her voice, likely at his discomfort, was evident. "I don't think he could hold this stuff."

The field hockey girls smirked and Zuko got the distinct impression that he was being laughed at by a bunch of girls again, but since that was turning out to be his lot in life, he didn't bother being upset. Instead, he sidled over to the side of the kitchen and picked up a beer can from an ungainly pile, cracking the seal on it with a wince.

One of the girls leaned close to Katara and said something too quiet for Zuko to hear. 

"Him?" Katara said, looking back at Zuko with a narrow-eyed, thoughtful expression that he didn't like at all. "I don't think so. Not my type."

"Yeah right," the other girl said. "We know your type."

Katara turned red, grabbed Zuko's arm, and dragged him out of the kitchen.

"Oh, I see how it is," Zuko grumbled, beer foaming over the edge of the can and down his hand. "You can make fun of me, but as soon as you get it, you’re all uncomfortable and I have to suffer."

Katara huffed and didn't look back at him as she pulled him towards the back door of the house and outside into the night.

It was still loud outside and again, Zuko wondered how the neighbors hadn't spazzed out about the noise yet. There was a light on the back of the house that lit most of the small yard, illuminating what looked like most of the football team and at least half of the wrestlers. Apart from Sokka, who was in the middle throwing a football at someone's face from three feet away, Zuko didn't recognize anyone. 

Katara ignored the main bunch of people and headed off towards the high fence around the back yard, which might have been one of the reasons these parties were allowed to continue. There were less people around the edges, and a vague smoke of cigarettes hung in the air. But at least he could hear Katara talk out here, though his ears were still ringing from inside.

Katara shook her head and took a drink from her punch, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. "Tastes like juice," she said darkly. "That's concerning."

"Just don't drink too much of it," Zuko said dismissively. "I bet you're a lightweight though."

"Do you just go around insulting all your friends like this?" Katara said, glaring at him over the rim of her cup. "Is this how you show affection?"

"I'm not insulting you. I'm just ... you know." Zuko shrugged. "It's a fact?"

Katara sighed. "Yeah," she said, sounding somewhat defeated. "It is."

Zuko looked around and leaned against the fence, finding himself close to Katara, one arm braced almost over her head. He knew he should move away, but there was something that made him want to stay close to her. Maybe it was just that continued protective instinct that he'd had to develop with her at school. Yeah. That must be it.

"Okay, I gotta ask," Zuko said as Katara settled against the fence, her eyes focused on the rest of the party rather than him. "I get that your grandma works a lot, but you're allowed to do this? What about your neighbors?"

Katara shrugged. "Most of our neighbors are here," she said, waving her hand as though taking in the whole party. "I mean, obviously not all of them. But their kids are. And there are other loud parties already happening." Katara's mouth quirked up in a little smile. "I mean, what do you expect from somewhere like this?"

"I feel like somehow you're still insulting me."

Katara just grinned.

Then she added, "Also, Gran-Gran babysits everyone's kids and they don't want to piss her off by getting her grandkids arrested. She's the only one willing to come out whenever someone calls. Which is good, she keeps us clothed and fed."

"Where are your parents?" Zuko asked, dreading the answer.

"My mom's dead," Katara said.

Zuko's stomach dropped out from under him. All this time with her, all this friendship, all the ... other things that he might or might not feel for her, and he hadn't known. He'd never really thought about it, never considered why they lived with their grandmother, why Katara needed to take care of Sokka and even Aang the way she did.  He thought ... well, honestly, he hadn't really thought anything of it. Maybe that her parents were dead, or they'd left her and Sokka. But no, that wasn't strictly true either. That would have meant he'd spent any time thinking about it at all.

"Katara, I —” he said, somewhat breathless, unable to find the right words in the noise of the party to convey how sorry he was that he'd even brought it up.

"It's okay," Katara said, too quickly. "It's fine. It was a long time ago."

"I'm sorry," Zuko managed anyway.

"Don't apologize," Katara said, not looking at him but away, over the fence and out towards the night, her cheek turned away from him and showing the cut of her round jaw. "It's not your fault."

But the way she said it was full of bitterness and hate and Zuko thought maybe it was his fault. It was certainly someone's.

So he didn't ask any further, though he was burning to know.

After a second, she said, "My dad's in the military. He moves a lot, whenever they station him somewhere new. He didn't reenlist until after my mom ... you know. And when he did, Sokka and I wanted to go with him, but he didn't think it would be good for us to move too much. You know, uprooting us, I guess. He was really worried. So he had my grandmother take care of us instead. He sends money." She blinked, too quickly. "I haven't seen him in a long time. He calls though."

"How long has it been?" Zuko asked quietly.

"A long time. Since middle school, I think. Coming home is too much for him, I guess. He'd rather just stay away. It reminds him of Mom and that's ... I guess that messes him up."

"So he doesn't see you because it hurts him?"

Katara shrugged, just one shoulder. "I guess."

"That blows."

She laughed and raised her hand to her face for just a second, which Zuko pretended not to see. "Yeah, it totally blows."

They fell into silence for a second, Zuko awkward and confused, his chest aching at the thought that he'd said something stupid. Part of him wanted to tell Katara about his own mother, but that felt too selfish, too much like he was making the conversation about him. So he didn't say anything at all. He just stood there, his shoulder an inch away from hers, and watched the crowd with the same far away look that she did.

After about thirty seconds, Katara cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. "I'll be right back," she said, and turned towards the house.

Zuko despaired.

He watched her walk through the crowd, smile still firmly in place as people stopped her to say hello, or clap her on the shoulder. The athletes all treated her like a little sister, just the way Sokka did, and he could see her chin tilt up in the same haughty way she had with her brother as they spoke, though whatever she said in return in that prissy little voice that grated on Zuko's bones made them laugh. And then she took the two steps up to the back door, pushed it open, and vanished.

Zuko found a ledge of old fence base to sit on, and dropped his head, hands hanging between his knees, beer dangling from his fingers. How stupid could he be? How monumentally assinine to think that he could just pry into Katara's life without any consequences? Would he have liked it if someone asked about  _ his _ mom? No, of course not. Whoever had asked would have gotten a solid punch in the mouth and that would be the end of it. And here he was, doing the exact same thing he hit other people for, and he felt like absolute shit.

A pair of scuffed tennis shoes that had probably been white in another lifetime entered his limited field of vision, and from somewhere above him, in a low, dangerous voice, Suki said, "What did you do to her?"

Zuko glanced up, scar side only so Suki was somewhat blurry and indistinct, but her posture — arms folded, shoulders back — was unmistakable, and very very dangerous. Another thing Zuko couldn't blame her for. Suki was, yes, way too overprotective, but she also had good reason for it, especially today.

"I just said something stupid," Zuko said.

"Hey!" Suki snapped her fingers and the hard slash of sound was enough to make Zuko look up at her fully. "Look, asshole, I'm not here for some wussy excuses about just saying something. Tell me what the fuck happened to make her look like that or I'll rip your goddamn eyes out. You were out here twenty whole seconds!"

"I asked about her mom," Zuko said.

Suki deflated immediately. "Oh," she said in her normal voice, which wasn't a herald of destruction. "Oh, that's ... I mean, stupid as all hell, there is  _ nothing _ between your ears, man, but I guess I can't get mad about that. We've all done that at some point. It's just a matter of which sibling you ask."

"You know?" Zuko said.

Suki's eyes narrowed. "I probably know more than you. I asked Sokka and don't get me wrong, he's not over most of it either, but he's a little less angry about it than Katara. Probably because he was older and got to process things better." Her mouth quirked up. "Daddy issues, not mommy issues."

"That's so nice of you," Zuko growled. "What a tender and kind way of putting it."

Suki shrugged. "Sorry, just being realistic."

That didn't make Zuko feel much better either, but at least she wasn't mad at him. "I have to go apologize to Katara," he said, trying to get his legs in gear to get up and go after her.

"Give her a second, okay?" Suki's grey eyes, usually as bright and wild as a storm, softened slightly and it made her whole face look more gentle. "She's tough, Katara is, but she's not invincible. I'm not saying you did anything totally wrong, it's just hard for her to be vulnerable. Especially with you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Suki gave him a significant look that Zuko couldn't for the life of him puzzle out. "You know," she said.

"I really don't."

Instead of giving him a real answer, Suki just shrugged. "I mean, if you want to rush up there like a romance novel hero to brush away her tears and make her forget —”

Zuko knew his face was going red, but he managed to keep his voice steady enough to say, "Has anyone ever told you that you're a fucking asshole?"

"Only every day." Suki flipped her short hair over one shoulder, briefly showing off the curve of a pale ear, and stuck her chin in the air. "But at least I'm not as stupid as you two are about how you  _ feel _ —”

"Shut up," Zuko said, tired rather than angry. "If you're so enlightened, why don't you go stick your tongue down Sokka's throat again?"

Suki grinned, showing off too-sharp teeth and making Zuko immediately uncomfortable. "You heard about that, huh? Did you hear about why?"

"What do you mean, why?" Vaguely, he remembered Katara saying something about a bet, but that was all. "Did you need a reason? You're obviously smitten —”

"Am I?" Suki said, raising an eyebrow and taking a step away from the Official Zuko Pity Party Corner, back towards the rest of the people who were probably less depressing to be around, "Or did I just have a really, really good motivation to want to win?"

And then, before Zuko could catch her and force her to explain, she was gone.

Zuko waited for a minute, weighing his options, and then got up because sitting here in the corner was making him anxious. Romantic novel hero move or not, talking to Katara was at least facing his problems head on rather than hiding from them, and he did enough hiding to last him a lifetime.

Unfortunately, he was stopped from reaching his goal by a very angry freshman who caught Zuko on the stairs.

Aang was descending as Zuko was heading up, and his face was a solid wall of rock and rage. People got out of his way, which was crazy because he was about two feet tall and probably weighed ten pounds, eleven if he was wearing shoes. But that didn't stop the anger boiling off him to affect everyone around him. 

As soon as Zuko stepped into his field of vision, Aang put his head down and made a beeline for him.

Because Aang was fourteen and still skinny as a reed, Zuko caught the messy punch Aang threw and even managed to do it before anyone else saw what was going on. It was a good thing too because a fight at a party would have attracted way more attention than either one of them wanted, though Aang was too mad to figure that out.

Zuko grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him hard, not back but down so Aang's knees buckled and he was suddenly sitting on the steps, looking suprised and confused. "Let's talk," Zuko growled, sitting down beside him more carefully. "And if you hit me again, I swear to God I'll throw you down these stairs, you little twerp."

Aang opened his mouth, rage still in his eyes.

"Quietly," Zuko said. "Don't yell or all these people are going to look at you. And you know how that's going to go?"

He could see the calculations running behind Aang's eyes and after a second, his shoulders slumped. "It won't go well," Aang ground out, his voice still high pitched with anger despite being much quieter now than it would have been before. "All right. Fine. Let's  _ talk _ . Though why you think you have anything I want to hear —”

"We have a lot to talk about," Zuko said sharply, stretching his legs down the stairs — anyone who wanted to bathroom was going to have to wait. "But let's start with the fact that I didn't mean to upset her ..." He paused, then said in a less certain tone, "That's why you're mad, right? Because Katara's upset?"

"See, you know what you did —”

Zuko dropped a heavy hand on Aang's shoulder. "Quieter."

Aang's voice dropped to a hiss like steam escaping a kettle. "If you know, then why are you mad at me for being mad at you?"

"I'm not mad at you," Zuko said. "I just don't think you have the right information. Do you know  _ why _ she's upset?"

"It doesn't matter," Aang said, his face stormy again. "She came in, she looked upset, she'd been with you. I connected the dots."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "I didn't do anything to her, doofus."

"Then why —?”

"I accidentally asked about her mom."

Aang went immediately silent, his mouth pursed into a tight line. "Oh," he said, much more quietly now. "Oh, that ... okay. That would do it, I guess."

"See?" Zuko leaned back on the stairs, watching the roiling boil of people below them, the whole of the house spread out in his view now. It was difficult to tell where one person ended and the next began. The idea of going back down there made Zuko's skin crawl, but he'd probably have to at some point. He'd promised Katara, and he didn't feel like breaking a promise to her, even if it was something stupid like this.

Aang's nose wrinkled. He was still mostly baby fat in the cheeks and jaw, making his face round and his eyes look huge against them. In that moment, Zuko saw what Katara saw in him: a kid who needed protecting. It was no wonder that Katara treated him like a baby, looked out him the way she did. She just didn't know what kind of trouble it had gotten her into.

"I wouldn't hurt her," Zuko said more softly. "I promised to keep her from getting beat up. Hurting her ... in any way ... I mean, that would be counterintuitive, right?"

Aang snorted. "I guess."

There was a moment of silence, or at least silence between them as the party raged below, still loud and boisterous. No one had noticed the near-fight on the stairs at least, which meant Zuko didn't have to murder anyone.

"So," Zuko said casually, glancing at Aang through his hair. "How long have you had a crush on her?"

Aang's whole face turned tomato red. "What? I don't —”

"Don't lie to me, squirt," Zuko said. "I'm an expert in lying, and you're really bad at it."

Aang visibly deflated, his shoulders falling. "Alright, fine. Yes, I have a ... I mean she's ..." He sighed deeply and then just said, in the voice of one who knew he was an idiot, "She's just so  _ great _ ."

"You grew up with her, right?" Zuko said.

Aang nodded. "I've known her for basically my whole life. I grew up next to her. She was like ..." He shook his head. "She's kind of always been like this."

"Bossy?" Zuko supplied. "Bratty? Annoying?"

"Perfect," Aang said sternly, glaring. "Caring."

"She does want to take care of everyone," Zuko said, rolling his eyes. "Kind of like everyone's mom. Definitely Sokka's." His stomach twisted a little as he suddenly realized why she acted like Sokka's mother — because he didn't have one anymore. "Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense," he said out loud, somewhat more quietly.

"Some of us need that," Aang said.

Zuko's vision clouded and he heard rain that wasn't there, the sound of his mother's voice in another room. He felt small, scared ...

And then he shook himself.

"Yeah, kid," he said, glancing at Aang again and catching his eye. "Some of us do."

Aang shrugged. "I never had a mom," he said, then furrowed his brow. "Well, no, I had one. I guess. At some point. But I don't remember her. Or my dad."

Zuko cocked his head. "You live next door, right? Who do you live with?"

"My uncle," Aang said, too quickly, and then, more quietly, "He's not really my uncle."

Zuko stared, silent and waiting.

"He's my foster dad," Aang said, so quietly that Zuko almost didn't hear him. "I don't have parents. And I wasn't adopted or anything. Most kids are. Most babies. But I wasn't. I just got a foster dad. He's ... Gyatso is great. He's fun and he's kind and I love him like he's my actual dad. But he's not. And it's just the two of us. It's quiet. And there's ... no mom."

"No mom," Zuko agreed, processing. "Seems to be a theme."

"With me and Katara, you mean?"

"Yeah," Zuko said, unwilling to add the words bouncing around in his skull:  _ and me _ .

But whenever he tried to open his mouth to say it, nothing came out.

"I'm sorry," Aang said suddenly. "I know I've been ... I don't like you very much."

"I noticed."

Aang pouted. "I just didn't want you to ... Katara's been hurt a lot, you know?"

"I know." Zuko leaned his elbows on his knees. "I'm not trying to hurt her, you know. I'm not even trying to do whatever it is you think I'm doing. I'm not her boyfriend. You know that?"

"Her last boyfriend —” Aang started.

"Tried to stab me."

A wide smile crossed Aang's face. "Oh yeah, I forgot that was you. I guess then you know first hand how ... shitty he is."

Zuko ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead in a way he rarely did. But Aang knew what his face looked like, and he wasn't exactly trying to impress the kid, just maybe get him to back off a little bit. Not from Katara, obviously. Aang could have whatever kind of crush on her he wanted to, that was none of Zuko's business. It was more that he was tired of the hostility every time he walked into Aang's presence.

Okay, and maybe a little that Aang's crush was annoying. For Katara's sake. Yeah, that was it.

"I'm not trying to muscle in on your girl," Zuko said, more sharply than he meant to. He forced himself to soften his tone, and added, "You and Katara ... well, that's between you and Katara." Aang was too young to have picked up that Junior girls didn't exactly go for Freshman boys, and that wasn't something that Zuko was going to bring up. It would have sounded cruel, even if it was true. "But I'm her friend. And I gotta tell you, I'm pretty intent on staying her friend because I don't have a lot." Zuko waved a hand at himself. "I don't know if you've picked that up."

Aang snorted.

"I'm not going to hurt her and I'm not going to do anything to her that she doesn't want me to do," Zuko continued, figuring those were both promises he could make and keep. "And I'm pretty over getting attacked every single time I do something that you don't like."

Aang's wide mouth warped into a little twisted line. "All right, fine," he said. "I'll stop ... whatever, she just needs someone to protect her, okay?"

Zuko, whose job was to protect her, thought of her improving right hook and said, "Does she?"

Arms folded, Aang looked at his feet.

Deciding that was sort of the end of this conversation, Zuko got up. "I have to go apologize to her," he said, clapping Aang on the shoulder. "Is she in her room?"

Aang nodded.

"Good talk," Zuko told him and took another step past Aang and into the hallway.

He padded along it to Katara's room — only a few long steps, really, the house was so small — and knocked quietly.

"I told you to go away, Aang," Katara called. "I'm fine, I just need some time."

"It's not Aang," Zuko said.

A long pause, long enough that he started to think she really wasn't going to open the door, and then the knob turned beneath his hand. The slice of Katara's face appearing in the gap was blotchy around the eyes and cheeks, though dry now. "Oh," she said quietly. "I don't think I can just make you go away."

"Probably not."

Scowling, Katara opened the door and admitted him to her bedroom, closing them both inside.

It wasn't like Zuko hadn't been alone with Katara before, but he did wish it would stop happening when she was upset. It would be nice to just have some interaction in a bedroom that didn't involve emotional distress. Not like  _ that  _ obviously, he didn't mean ... he didn't think of Katara that way. He really didn't.

It felt like Aang trying to convince him that there was no crush: lying, and badly.

"You good?" Zuko asked.

Katara just looked at him.

Leaning against the door, Zuko put his hands in his pockets. "Okay, I get it. I said soemthing stupid. I'm sorry, it was dumb, and I'm dumb. And I'm sorry."

Katara settled on the corner of her bed. She kept looking at the closed door, chewing her bottom lip. "I'm not supposed to have boys in my room with the door closed," she said.

Zuko immediately went to open the door.

"No, don't bother." Her mouth twisted. "As long as Sokka doesn't tattle on me like a baby, I'll be fine."

Because it would have been mean to point out, Zuko didn't mention that Aang had been in here with the door closed not an hour ago, but he knew that to Katara, Aang didn't count. Which was Aang's entire problem with her. Poor kid.

Katara kept chewing her lip, eyes flicking around the room like blue fireflies lighting her face.

"It's not your fault," she said as though it was. "You don't need to apologize."

And there it was again, that  _ thing _ , whatever it was, that Katara wasn't telling him, the thing that was sitting in the middle of their budding friendship like a poisonous weight.

"Katara," he said gently, feeling out the situation even though he was no good at it, "how did your mom die?"

Katara stiffened. Her shoulders straightened almost involuntarily as though someone had yanked a string attached to the top of her spine. Her chin came up too, in that expression he'd seen so often on her face, one of prissy pride that didn't seem to do her any good but that she used so often as though it would protect her from ... well, everything. It was strange to see her move so fast into this new mood, the question seeming to bring about a near miraculous change in her, and one that Zuko didn't like.

He didn't say anything else, just leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, waiting. She'd break before he did.

"Cancer," Katara said.

He kept waiting.

"I was eight."

He didn't move.

She met his gaze and there was anger in them. "She worked at your dad's company," she said, fast and fierce, a sudden burst of anger and sadness that propelled her on, the words spilling out of her. "She cleaned. We're not rich and we never have been. She got a job there when I was little to help Dad bring in some extra money because we were having trouble paying the bills. My grandmother had her hands full watching me and Sokka so she couldn't help out like she does now. And my dad's job was fine but it was spotty. He was working construction then, and it was just a matter of who needed him from week to week. Mom wanted to keep us stable, you know? Just a little more stable. So she went out and she took a cleaning job.

"And then she got sick. It was a couple years after that, and we thought, you know, she was just tired. But it wasn't that. It was in her lungs. Acute, the doctors said. Fast. And they thought it was probably from breathing in all the chemicals. The cleaning products they gave her at work were too strong, not safe enough. She had ... she died. Three months from diagnosis to death. And your dad ..." Katara wiped at her now streaming eyes, but her angry expression didn't change. "He didn't help. We tried to get him to, tried to talk to him and ask for help with the bills and the treatments and — but he wouldn't. He wouldn't do it. He just said we couldn't  _ prove _ that it was his fault and so he ... he ... he let my mother die!"

The last part came out a shriek of pain and rage and with it, Katara picked up one of the pillows on her bed and threw it with all her strength at the wall. It hit, a soft thwap, and the pictures on the wall rattled.

Zuko didn't move. He didn't know what to say. Everything seemed too flippant or too pitying and he knew she wouldn't want that.

Finally, he managed, "If you wanna hit something, you can hit me again. I don't mind."

Katara laughed and it felt like she might cry, but she didn't. There was still anger in her voice, which he could hear bubbling up in the near-hysterical tone of her giggles, and that worried him just a little bit. Leaving his leaning place against the doorframe, he took a few steps towards the bed, and when she didn't protest, he crossed the two more short steps and sat down next to her. He didn't touch her, didn't try to hug her or anything — that probably wouldn't be something she wanted him to do — but he just sat and didn't look at her.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"It's not your fault," she said, face turned away from him. "It's like you said with Jet's family. You were young too. If I was eight, you were, what ... ten?"

"I guess," Zuko said, not sure why that didn't seem good enough. He paused, wrestling with himself, and then said, "My mom's gone too, you know." He paused. "Not to, like, make it about me, I'm sorry, that's stupid."

Katara's hand came up to her eyes, but he wasn't sure if she was brushing away hair or tears. When she spoke, her voice was more steady. "I didn't know that. I'm sorry. What happened?"

Zuko took a deep breath and rested his hands on his knees. "I think she's dead," he said quietly. "That's my theory."

"You don't know?”

"Yeah." Zuko found it suddenly impossible to look at her. "She's ... gone. One day she just ... left."

"You don't know why?"

"I know why," Zuko said darkly. "Same reason your mom's gone. My father."

The room went silent a grave. Downstairs, the music and yelling still raged, but it was like they were far away, more felt than actually heard. They no longer seemed real, just some vestige of another world that this bedroom wasn't part of.

Zuko swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "He's not ... a good person, Katara. I'm not going to defend him because I know first hand how much of an asshole he is. If my mom isn't dead, she would have been if she'd stayed. Either he would have killed her, or she would have killed herself. I just know it."

There was a boulder in his throat, but he felt like the words were just coming out of him in bubbles and he was unable to stop them. This was what he'd thought for years and never had the courage to say to anyone; not his father, not Azula, not even Iroh. He didn't know why he was telling Katara, but it just felt like the right thing to do.

The right person to know.

"My father isn't just a jerk who's crappy to people who work for him, Katara," he continued, hands shaking, unable to stop. "He's a shit to his family too. He did something to my mom, I know he did. I don't know what it was, but I'm glad she's gone. Maybe she's dead, but maybe she's not. And I hope she's not. I hope she's somewhere else and she's happy. I wish she could have taken us with her, but I know ... I know she couldn't. And at least she got out. And maybe … maybe being dead is better too.”

Katara's eyes, always somewhat suspicious, got hard and cold like deep ocean ice. "What did he do to her?"

Zuko shrugged. "Where do you think I learned how to hit people?"

He didn't look at her, wasn't able to turn to make eye contact. He didn't want to see the pity in her eyes. He could almost feel her gaze on his scar, hear her unasked questions, but he couldn't turn to meet them.

His hand tangled in the neat quilt covering her bed.

He almost jumped when fingers bumped against the side of his palm, then slid over his hand. Her fingers curled down, looping around his. It was a gentle touch, fae and airy as though it would disappear at any second.

Zuko bit the inside of his lip. It was all he wanted to flip his hand over, palm up, and lace his fingers with hers, but no, he couldn't do that, couldn't ... be that person. She'd told him a million times that it would never happen and she was right, and if he tried anything, he would be the idiot. And he already felt stupid enough for saying anything.

So he just let her hand lie there, wrapped around his like a security blanket, and did nothing. And hated himself for it.

Finally he managed, "So I guess we have that in common."

Katara squeezed his hand one last time, and let go. "Pretty shitty thing to have in common."

Finally able to look at her, Zuko offered a crooked grin. "Sorry I ruined your night."

She shook her head. "You didn't."

Which was nice of her to say, but was probably a lie.

All of a sudden, he remembered Aang. "Oh, shit, Katara, we gotta get back down there. Aang saw me on the way up, he's going to know, and honestly, if he tells your brother, I'm toast."

Katara rolled her eyes. "He's fine, you're overreacting."

Zuko narrowed his eyes. "Am I?"

Getting up, Katara tossed her hair back. It was impressive that she'd been so upset and now there wasn't a sign of it. Zuko knew what that was like: a skill born from long years of hiding one's true feelings. "Don't be such a wuss."

"Oh, sorry I don't want a quarterback to punch me in the face," Zuko said. 

"Fine," Katara said. "Come on."

And she crossed the room and threw open the door before he had a chance to protest.

Following in her wake, back into the noisey depths of the party, Zuko found himself watching the way her hips moved, the turn of her head, the flow of her hair, and then trying not to. It was stupid and he knew it, but he couldn't really help himself. Even when she was immediately pulled away by some of her brother's friends as soon as her feet touched the floor of the hallway, he watched her as she cast a laughing glance over her shoulder at him before the crowd swallowed her whole.

"Hey, Zuko," said Suki, materializing at his shoulder and scaring the shit out of him. He jumped what felt like fifteen feet in the air and clapped a hand to his heart.

"Christ on a cracker, Suki, what the fuck?"

She just stared at him, grinning like a cartoon cat.

"What do you want?" he growled.

"Better?" She raised a cup to her lips and drank deeply. Her eyes sparkled with a cruel, bright light that Zuko had long ago learned to associate with drunk girls about to dive headfirst into his business.

"It's fine," he said shortly.

Suki glanced from him to Katara, who was talking to a tall linebacker and laughing, waving off something he said. She seemed more comfortable than Zuko had seen her ... well, maybe ever. Maybe she was right. Maybe this was where she was supposed to be.

When Suki looked back, she raised one red eyebrow and said, "So. Are you in love with her yet?"

Angry for a number of reasons, Zuko turned and shoved past her. "Fuck off, Suki."

"You didn't answer the question!" she yelled after him.

But he didn't need to answer. She obviously already knew.


	14. Teenage Lobotomy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back on the wagon with this, hopefully I can keep up a little better for a while as things start to calm down in other parts of my life. Chag Sameach to my fellow Jews out there, and Happy Holidays to everyone else!

Katara finished putting the clean dishes away, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist — one of Gran-Gran's old ones — and surveying the kitchen. Dinner was done, Sokka was stuck up in his room trying to find a social engagement for his Saturday night, Aang was back home, and Gran-Gran was babysitting. Everything seemed to be in place, but for some reason, Katara kept feeling as though she was forgetting something. Something important, something she was supposed to do.

Oh well, she thought to herself, finding nothing in the kitchen to nitpick. If she'd forgotten about it, it couldn't have been that important.

And right on cue, there was a knock on the door.

She checked the clock over the stove — seven thirty, too late for company that wasn't part of Sokka's crew. He'd probably thrown together plans after all. Anything to stop him having to sit at home. For once she agreed with him; if he went out, he'd be out of her hair.

She put on her best smile and opened the door.

Zuko grinned down at her, taking in the gingham apron and her wide, surprised eyes. "Well ... don't you just look domestic," he said, raising his one eyebrow. 

And then, Katara remembered. 

"Oh no," she groaned. "I said I'd go with you to that show tonight."

Zuko cocked his head. He was wearing a leather jacket, one she hadn't seen before. Like some of his other out-of school clothing, the jacket was studded with metal rivets, safety pins, and all sorts of other after-market decorations. His jeans were scuffed and his thick boots crossed with white scars. The look felt like too much for Katara’s quiet front door.

She looked like ... well, as Suki would say, someone's mom.

"You forgot," Zuko said, leaning one arm against the doorframe and taking up more of it than he really should. Katara found herself swallowing hard, looking up at him. She was still somewhat haunted by the night before. Even after the party, once Zuko had gone home and the house had grown quiet, after she and Sokka had cleaned up, she lay in bed, staring at her ceiling and thinking of the heat of his hand beneath her own.

Which was  _ stupid _ .

"I did forget," she said, standing aside so he could enter the house, if just to get him out of the doorway. "Come in, I'll change."

"You're not planning on wearing that apron?" Zuko said, sticking his hands in his pockets and dipping his head as he came through the door. It wasn't that he was really that tall, and he had a kind of skinny awkwardness to him that should have made less imposing, but his presence seemed ... closer, somehow, as though after last night, she was more aware of him and where he was in relation to her.

She gave him a look.

Zuko rolled his eyes. "I'll wait."

Katara rocketed up the stairs, pulling off the apron as she went. She wished she could have some time to change, to look more like the person Suki turned her into, but there wasn't time for that. She would just have to be herself, and stick out like a sore thumb in a crowd of people who were probably going to look a lot more like Zuko.

She yanked off the jeans and loose t-shirt she'd been wearing all day, dug in her underwear for some tights, then scrounged through her closet for the blue sweater dress she never wore because it always seemed like too much work. Also, it was shorter than she liked, she remembered as she yanked it over her head, but too late for that now. A belt from under her bed and some boots from the thrift store that she kept swearing she'd wear, a desperate toss of scarce makeup onto her face as though that would do anything for her, and she was back out the door and down the stairs, jacket in hand.

"Katara?" Sokka yelled from upstairs. "You sound like a herd of elephants, what are you doing?"

"I'm going out!" she yelled over her shoulder as she reached the hall. "I'll be back late!"

"With who?" Sokka yelled.

"Zuko!"

A silence, then, "I tried to care and it didn't work! Have fun!"

Rolling her eyes, Katara turned back to Zuko and he didn't look away fast enough to hide the fact that he'd been examining her legs.

"Is it too short?" Katara fussed with the hem, her face burning. "I can change."

"No, you can't," Zuko said, all business. "No time. Come on, let's go."

Suddenly regretting everything, Katara let him hold the door for her and stepped out into the night, pulling on her jean jacket. Zuko's car sat in front of the house, nearly glowing, and Katara had to force herself to take the steps towards it, wrapping her hands in the too-long sleeves of the jacket.

"You okay?" Zuko said, and his voice was more gentle than she'd ever heard it before. She wasn't used to that kind of tone from him and it made her stomach turn over in a way that wasn't exactly unpleasant, but made her feel ... strange.

She forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just nervous." She cleared her throat as they approached the car.

"You'll be fine," Zuko said, in his normal rough tones, walking around to the driver's side. "Come on, get in. We gotta go."

"Isn't it a little early?" Katara said.

"Not where we're going," Zuko said, ducking into the car. Katara had to follow in order to catch the rest of what he was saying, sliding into the car with her knees pressed together. "I know I said I'd make you come to a punk show, but it's more of ... a bar where there are bands on Saturday night. I have no idea what's going to be playing. But we'll find out?" He started the car and pulled out. "It'll be fun."

"Fun?" Katara squeaked.

Zuko rolled his eyes as he headed out of Aurora Hill and towards downtown. "Don't be such a stuck up ..."

He went silent.

Katara looked around, running if he'd seen something she hadn't, but no, his mouth just twisted into a little bow. 

It struck her suddenly and she found herself grinning at him, not with happiness but with that kind of malice that was much more at home on Suki's face than her own. "I'm not going to get offended if you insult me," she said. "You've done enough of it that I'm not that upset."

Zuko's face twisted. "I know I'm an asshole," he said, in a statement Katara had heard so many times from him she could almost recite with him. "I just ... feel like maybe I've been ... a lot of an asshole to you. You know?"

Katara was about to laugh, but then she thought back to the night before, his hand hot beneath hers, and found her cheeks warming.

"That's ... nice," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. What she suddenly wanted was to toss her hair over her face so he couldn't see her anymore, but that wasn't allowed. And she couldn't let him see that she had some weaknesses, God forbid.

Zuko grunted.

An awkward silence filled the car and Katara tried again to pull the hem of her dress down, but it wasn't working. There was a lot of thigh, she thought looking into her lap. She wasn't one of those girls with long delicate legs. Her whole family were built strong and heavy, especially in the hips.

Thinking of tall, skinny Mai, she wondered if Zuko would like her thighs.

And then she panicked. What was she  _ thinking _ ? Why would she care what Zuko thought about thighs, hers or anyone else's? Her face went hot, and she sank her teeth into the inside of her lip. She didn't care, she reminded herself over and over again. Of course she didn't care. Why would she care? She didn't.

Thankfully, Zuko pulled into a parking spot right about then and Katara got to busy herself getting out of the car, straightening her dress and her hair. She knew the spot — a slightly run down corner of town with a few dive bars and grubby storefronts. Zuko leaned against the side of the car, produced a cigarette, and lit it. Smoke floated across the hood of the car as he waited for her, his face half in shadow.

"You ready?" he asked.

"No."

He grinned, sideways and wry. "Yeah, that's how I felt going to your party. This is payback."

She scowled at him.

Zuko ignored her, readjusting his jacket over his shoulders. With the smoke floating around his face, he looked even more distant than usual, the image completed. He took the cigarette from his mouth and pinched it out between two fingers, putting it back in his pocket. "Let's go," he said. "Before you chicken out."

"I'm not going to chicken out," Katara squacked, rushing to keep up with his longer legs. He was heading towards a rundown bar, which used to have front windows but they'd been taken out at some point and replaced with black wood, likely to keep the noise inside. She could feel the music from here, deep in her chest, the beat of drums and the rumble of guitar strings. It made her anxious, but not enough to stop walking.

She managed to catch up to Zuko just before he opened the door. "I can't drink," she hissed at him. "I'm only seventeen."

Zuko kept going, head cocking to one side. "Okay, so don't do it."

"Will they let me in?"

He snorted and pulled the door open for her. "Of course they'll let you in," he said. "They're not even going to check. Don't have a cow."

Katara didn't really believe him until they stepped into the noise of the small, busy club and realized that the people who worked here had a lot more important worries than keeping an eye on some girl who shouldn't legally be served.

It was very dark, the lighting bad even near the stage, and the acoustics were terrible. Katara wasn't a big connoisseur of this type of music to begin with — to her, it just sounded like noise — but it was worse in here, the sound bouncing off the low ceiling, reverberating, getting picked back up by too-loud microphones, and creating an unpleasant whir of underlying feedback. The crowd was overwhelmingly male, and she could feel the edge coming off them already. There was an aggression to them that she could almost taste on the back of her tongue, hot and sharp, as though a fight might break out at any moment.

Keeping close to Zuko, Katara inched deeper into the room, her eyes wide like a baby bird. There was so much to see, so many people pressing close to her. A boy with a spiked blonde mohawk and a pierced eyebrow grinned at her as she passed and accidently knocked into him. She apologized, but it was too loud to hear, and he just kept smiling until Zuko reached back and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her along.

"Stop trying to be polite," he yelled at her.

"Why, so I can end up like you?"

His mouth twisted in something like a grin and he set her down at a small table in the back of the room. She'd expected all of the seats to be full and it surprised her when he pushed her into the edge of the tabletop, but then she realized that most of the crowd was pressed up close to the stage. There was a smash of breaking glass and someone yelled, more angry than hurt.

"Stay here," he said. "I'll be right back."

She wanted to ask him where he was going, why he was leaving her, but he was gone to fast. And she had to admit, she'd left him at the party last night, so maybe this was some form of payback for making him deal with her people. So she clung to the beer-soaked edge of the table like it was a raft in a stormy sea and tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

Now that she was able to get her bearings, it wasn't as crowded as she'd first thought. There was some congestion by the door where people were coming in, intersecting with the bar which was also near the entryway. So it was just bad design, not that it was a super busy kind of place. It was very small, and the people up by the stage — maybe a dozen boys around her age or a few years older — were incredibly loud. Also, the band playing seemed to be trying to make as much noise as possible. Katara tried to get a good look at them but there was a lot going on — they moved more than the musicians she was used to, the singer prowling around the stage like a caged animal, his bare shoulders slick with sweat shining in the heat of the lights.

She was so busy leaning on the table and peering at the stage, rising up on her toes to do it, that she didn't notice the two boys approaching her.

"Hey," one of them said, leaning on the opposite corner of the table and startling her out of her wrapt interest in the stage. "How's it going?"

Katara whipped around, hair swirling into her face. They were watching her, two boys a little older than her, both with sharp eyes and uncomfortable smirks. Katara's shoulders tightened and she moved slightly to keep the table between her and the two of them, but she pasted on her nicest, fakest smile, flashing it in their direction and looking for ways out.

"Hi," she said.

"Don't take this the wrong way," said the boy who'd spoken earlier, short, with close cropped hair and a ring in his bottom lip, "but you don't look like you belong here."

Katara knew he was right, but bristled anyway. "What," she said again, "is this a No Girls Allowed club?"

They sniggered, looking at each other. "Flash dress," the other one said, the one who hadn't spoken. He was taller, with more hair and no metal in his face, but there was a tattoo on his neck that Katara couldn't make out all of. "Nice to see a girl in here who still looks like a girl."

Katara pursed her lips, her smile slipping just a little bit. "Can I, um ... help you?"

"Ah, no, don't be nervous." Lip Ring leaned against the table, moving into Katara's personal space and making the hair rise on the back of her neck. "I don't wanna scare you, babe, I'm just saying hi. Right?" He nudged Neck Tattoo. "Just saying hi."

Neck Tattoo nodded and grinned.

She considered kicking him, but maybe that would be a bit much.

"So, what  _ are _ you doing here? Your boyfriend make you come?" Lip Ring leaned against the table. His knee brushed into hers and she moved it away. 

"No," Katara said. "I just ..."

She couldn't make up an excuse. It didn't make  _ sense _ that she was here, and even these people who knew nothing about her, not even her name, could see that. They must have felt her unease too, because Lip Ring moved in closer so she could smell the cigarettes on his breath and see the unpleasant gleam in his eye.

"Hey, well," he said, "you hang with us and we'll show you a good time."

Katara decided that politeness was overrated and spread her feet just slightly, readying herself to punch Lip Ring right in the gut.

A hand looped around her waist, too warm, along with the arm behind it. She was about to turn her rage on whoever this new threat was, but the smell of leather surrounded her as Zuko pulled her away from the two boys and against his side. Heat rolled off him, though goosebumps blossomed on Katara's arms at his touch as though it was icey. She stumbled slightly and he held her up, though she caught herself by putting one hand on his chest, then pulling it away immediately. 

"I'm sorry," Zuko rumbled at them, his eyes flicking from Lip Ring to Neck Tattoo. "Am I interrupting something?"

Unlike school, the boys didn't immediately run away with their tails between their legs. Instead, they sneered at him, but there was fear in their eyes.

"We were just talking," said Lip Ring. "We weren't bothering her."

Zuko glanced down. "Hey, were they bothering you?" he said.

Katara, unable to talk with his presence wrapped around her, the harsh smells of leather and cigarettes and heat pressing against her, just nodded.

"All right, there you go," Zuko said. Another person may have smiled, a false smile, but Zuko didn't. He just stared them down. "You were bothering her. So why don't you both just fuck right off before she wigs out on you."

"Her?" said Neck Tattoo, who was clearly the stupider one of the two. "I'm not scared of —”

"You should be," Zuko said. He wrapped his hand tighter around her waist, his fingers digging into her hip and making her whole body tingle in a way that she didn't want to think about. "She's crazy."

They both looked at her, and Katara looked back, her eyes wide and her cheeks red. They didn't believe Zuko and she didn't blame them — she looked like a scared little girl.

"Hey," Zuko said, snapping right in front of Lip Ring's face and catching the attention of both boys. "How about this? You leave her alone and go find your own table, or you'll have to deal with  _ me.  _ Clear?"

Lip Ring's eyes flicked up to Zuko's scar and then away. He nodded and the two of them slunk off towards the stage.

Zuko didn't let go of her, but his grip around her waist loosened slightly. He kept his hand there though, resting against her hip, his little finger straying down almost to the hem of her dress.

"Thanks," Katara said, wetting her bottom lip, which had gone bone dry. "I could have handled them."

Zuko leaned against the edge of the table and raised a beer bottle to his lips — that must have been what he'd gone to get. He didn't have one for her, but she  _ had _ made a big deal of not drinking. "I know you could have," he said lightly, his hand still on her. "You just shouldn't have to."

She couldn't argue with that, but she wished he'd let go of her. It wasn't disgust, like when Lip Ring had gotten too close to her, but the feeling was uncomfortable still, too bright and aware. It was as though every cell in her body under the pressure of his hand was screaming. And yet, she didn't want to pull away.

And Zuko's hand stayed on her hip.

But his eyes still flickered around the room. He was keeping a look out for more people, more boys coming to bother her. He was touching her, keeping her close, only to keep her safe. Which was what Zuko was supposed to do for her. It was what they'd agreed on, budding friendship or not. This was what their relationship boiled down to. And Katara wasn't sure why that hurt her, flipping her stomach over as though it was riding its very own rollercoaster.

Zuko leaned towards her. "What do you think?" he said, looking at the stage.

She pulled away, uncomfortable at his closeness. It also let her look at him, the softness in his face. "It's ..."

He grinned and met her eyes. "You hate it."

Katara deflated. "I hate it," she agreed. "I don't  _ get _ it. It's just so loud and angry."

"It's funny because you're the loudest, angriest person I know," Zuko said, raising an eyebrow. His thumb made a circle on her hipbone, but no, she was making that up. She was imagining things now and she knew it.

She also wasn't going to examine too closely  _ why _ she was imagining that.

"Okay, so," Zuko said. "What do you think music should be?"

"Good," Katara said.

He laughed again, that low, growling rumble that, this close to him, she felt more than heard. "Yeah, so that's your problem," he said. "You're looking for something that's ... aesthetically pleasing, but not necessarily passionate. I don't  _ really _ hate on that New Wave shit, I get why people like it. But those aren't my emotions. That's not how I feel. I don't  _ feel _ synth and bounce and pop. I feel this." He waved a hand at the stage. "Punk is about being mad and kept down and hurt, and then  _ doing _ something about. It's music to rebel to."

Katara made a face. "What do you need to rebel against?" she said before she could think about it.

He pulled her closer, his hand digging into her hip, turning until she was pressed up against him, the side of her leg against his. He leaned in so his mouth was right next to her ear — probably so she could hear him, she told herself, heart hammering — and said, "Of all people, you know what I need to rebel against."

Katara swallowed hard. She thought again of her hand on his, the silent emotion between their skin. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"Don't apologize." Zuko pulled away and his hand dropped from Katara's waist. Her skin was still hot, as though the touch had burned her. Her face was hot too.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Zuko folded his arms and bracing them on the table. "Actually, I should apologize," he said gruffly, not looking at her. "I shouldn't have ... you know. You could have punched him."

"I think if I punched him, you'd get punched too," Katara said, pulling the hem of her dress down again as though that would kill the echo of her touch. It didn't. "If I started a fight here, isn't your job to keep me safe?"

"Oh, now you're just going to start fights for me to deal with?" Zuko rolled his eyes. "Thanks. I'm  _ totally _ down for that."

Katara forced a laugh, and it was easy to pretend that this was just another thing that Zuko had done to keep her safe. Though, of course, why would she think it was pretend? She knew what kind of girls Zuko liked, and it wasn't her. It  _ wasn't her _ .

There, she told her own brain, annoyed with it. Was that so hard?

"Come on," she said, forcing a grin. "Are you telling me that you haven't been in a bar fight before?"

"I didn't say that."

"Because it would be a lie, right?"

Zuko glowered at her, and she found that while she'd once found the look scary, with his scar and his sharp eyes, now it was just his face and she was able to ignore it. Instead, she stuck her tongue out at him. "Delinquent."

"Nerd."

She put her hand to her chest in fake offense. "How dare you, I'm not a nerd."

Zuko snorted. "You can say whatever you want," he told her, shaking his head. "You can lie to me about how you're actually cool, how your friends are rad and your reputation is righteous, but don't lie to me. Under all that, you're just like Aang."

"I am  _ not _ !"

"Okay, fine," Zuko said. "You're a lot more pissed off than Aang."

Katara couldn't argue with that. She certainly was angrier than Aang, and maybe she was kind of a nerd too, but she didn't need him to remind her of that. Not when she was already feeling so out of place in this crowd of mohawked freaks.

When she looked up at Zuko to complain to him that she didn't want to be pigeonholed, he wasn't looking at her anymore, but was glaring across the room at the return of Lip Ring and Neck Tattoo.

"Ignore them," Katara said.

Zuko reached out and put his arm around her shoulders, turning his head away from her to take a sip of his beer. Katara found herself leaning into him even though she didn't want to, even though she wanted to take these assholes out herself. It was just the warmth, she thought. It was starting to get chilly this time of year, and even with the people around her and her jacket and the heat coming off the electrics on the stage, maybe she was just cold. That made sense. Cold.

"Before you start," Zuko grumbled, "don't complain. I don't want to hear it. Yes, I know you can take care of yourself, yes, I know you're tough now. But maybe I don't need more scars."

Katara's eyes flicked to his face, to the scar there, and then away, face burning, but she didn't ask. She never, ever asked and it was starting to feel like the emotional equivalent of a lump in her throat.

"I'm kidding," Zuko said when her silence stretched too long.

"I know."

"Okay." He squeezed her shoulder. "Sorry about ... I promise I won't like ... touch you anymore after this. I just figured I got you into this so I might as well get you out. You know, without any of the bloodshed you would cause."

"No, it's ..." Katara cleared her throat, embarrassed, and embarrassed by her embarrassment. "It's fine. I get it. Thank you."

Zuko snorted. "Don't thank me for invading your personal bubble," he said, not removing himself from it. Lip Ring and Neck Tattoo were still watching them.

"I don't mind," she said, her voice stronger now. 

Zuko's hand on her shoulder tightened, loosened, and tightened again as though he wasn't sure how he was supposed to react. "You ... you don't?"

She shrugged, shoulders shrinking away from his touch despite her words. "No, I mean ... that's what friends do, right? They keep an eye on you. You're helping me out, which I really appreciate even if I do ... I do ..."

The singer on stage let out a primal scream that made Katara jump.

Zuko laughed out loud. "Here you are, telling me you could have taken them, and you can't even suffer through one concert."

"It's loud," Katara complained.

Zuko patted her on the shoulder and dropped his hand. His fingers skimmed down her back, stopping briefly at her waist, and then falling away completely. The path of his touch felt electric and tender and Katara tried to push away the sensation. Maybe she just wasn't used to being touched, she thought. No one had done it, apart from Suki who didn't count, since she'd dumped Jet. Sokka and Aang's general sibling or sibling-like familiarity notwithstanding.

That must be it. No wonder she was so on edge. It was just the closeness. Obvious, really.

Katara raised a hand to her jaw, just below her ear, and open and closed her mouth a few times. "How does this not bother you?" she asked.

"What?"

"The noise."

His mouth twisted into a smile. "It feels good, sometimes. Not to have to hear. To listen. It feels like there's someone else to answer that scream inside you, you know?" He put his hand to his chest. "The one right here. Do you get that?"

She nodded. "I think I know what you mean."

"The noise lets it ... come out. It's like the amps scream for you, so you don't have to."

Katara met his eyes, bland and cold. "That's real deep, Zuko."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "You're such a brat. I'm trying to open up here, and you're just being so harsh."

"As if," Katara said, grinning.

Zuko reached across his body and punched her lightly in the arm. "Thanks for coming. I know you hate this music and being around me probably isn't your favorite thing in the world to do, but ... thank you."

"I was blackmailed into it," Katara said.

"I know."

She softened. "It's ... no problem. I mean, isn't that what friends do? Go see bands they don't care about?"

"I guess," Zuko said, almost too quiet to hear over the noise. "No one has ever done that for me."

"Because you have no friends," she snipped.

"Had." He cut his eyes over to her. "I  _ had _ no friends. Sorry if I'm a slow learner."

Katara smiled. She couldn't help herself; just the idea that he meant  _ her _ , that she'd gotten through the tough Zuko exterior and had managed to make him care about something, well, that felt pretty good. Not that she was saying it was her job to make him do that — she'd had enough of trying to make men better for a lifetime, and she wasn't even out of high school yet. But Zuko feeling like he had to  _ care ...  _ she liked that.

It was important to care.

He caught her smile and scowled. "Don't get sappy on me."

"Too late." Her smile got wider and she could feel her eyes crinkling up to almost nothing. Her cheeks hurt.

"You're a real doofus, you know that?" Zuko said, taking a sip of his beer.

She almost leaned in to kiss his cheek as she would have with Aang or, years ago, Sokka, but stopped herself just in time. That would be too far for Zuko. He would probably lock up and sink into the floor.

"I'm glad you're my friend," she said.

His cheeks turned red. "Yeah, whatever," he said, gruff as usual, but she saw the smile at the corner of his mouth, and that warmed her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep trying NOT to write love letters to punk rock (since I already wrote a novel-length fic that was basically that) but it keeps happening. So this time I wrote it from the outside perspective? 
> 
> On the other hand, it's also me expressing my anger about how some punk boys can be and how much I appreciate my riot grrrl punk mamas for telling them to sit the fuck down.


	15. Tell Her About It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains depictions of domestic abuse.

 Zuko didn't get home on Saturday night until it was technically Sunday. He drove Katara home, almost crashing the car a couple of times because he kept sneaking glances at her wine-red cheeks, the brightness in her blue eyes in the darkness. Getting to keep a hand or arm on her most of the night had done something strange to his brain and all he could think about was the tingle in his fingertips, the whisper of her hair against the back of his hand.

As soon as he dropped her off at her front door with an awkward goodnight, and watched her walk inside, closing the door softly behind her, he leaned back into the seat and looked up at the inside roof of the car.

"You idiot," he said out loud. "Suki's right. You got it  _ real _ bad for that girl."

Admitting it didn't make him feel better. In fact, it made him feel worse.

He could have gone to Iroh's, just down the street, and he probably should have, but being this near Katara would have felt ... well, like he was in her space. Like he was pushing himself even further into her life. So instead, he turned the car towards his own house, which felt less and less like it belonged to him.

It was massive and silent, the front lit by pale lights, and the quiet at least was something. Zuko figured he could sneak in, sleep, and sneak out again before anyone noticed he was there. That was the goal. He parked the car in the driveway rather than the garage and flipped off the engine, killing the headlights. For a second he sat in the car alone in the dark, a very different feeling than it had been outside Katara's house, and then, because waiting would only make it worse, he got out and walked into the house.

It was an easy, familiar trip up the dark stairs and down the hall to his room. He half expected the door to creak when he pushed it open, but it was silent and he managed to make it in and closed behind him without alerting anyone to his presence. 

After that, it was simple enough to tumble into his bed, throw his boots into a corner, and fall asleep thinking about the warmth of Katara's hip underneath his hand.

He woke early, confused as to where he was, but then suddenly remembered in a horrible lightning strike. He had to get out of here. Scrambling across the room, he found his shoes and jammed them on his feet. He just had to get out of here real quick before anyone decided to yell at him.

And maybe it was because he was still wandering around in a cloud of new crush fog, but he didn't notice anything wrong until shadows moved in the next room and Zuko's heart stopped.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, frozen, and stared into the living room where his father sat in an overstuffed red armchair with a cup of coffee in one hand and the paper in the other. But he wasn't reading it. Instead, he was staring right back at Zuko with quiet, cold anger in his eyes.

"Zuko," he said.

Zuko didn't say anything in response. He didn't move from the bottom step even though his bag was slipping off his shoulder. He couldn't do anything at all, couldn't force himself to move even though his brain was screaming at him to run. This was always how it was. Zuko couldn't stand up for himself under his father's chill gaze.

"Come here."

And Zuko did, because what else was there to do?

"Where have you been?" His father folded the newspaper and placed it on his lap. "I haven't seen you in days."

"I've been out."

His father raised an eyebrow. "Out where?"

"School."

"School ...?"

"School,  _ sir _ ," Zuko gritted out. 

"So you've been sleeping at school?"

"No ... sir."

A long silence as Zuko wrestled with himself to not give any more explanation and his father stared at him as though he could see all of Zuko's secrets just by looking.

"You've been staying with my idiot brother, haven't you."

Instead of lying, which would have just made things worse, Zuko kept his mouth shut.

"Zuko, Zuko, Zuko." His father shook his head back and forth in a slow curve as though he was tired rather than angry, but Zuko knew better. "How many times do I have to tell you? That old fool is a bad influence on you, on your sister. On all of us. His bad choices are his alone, and I won't have you encouraging them. He's only trying to corrupt you, you know that?"

Zuko knew he should stand up for Iroh, but his mouth was glued shut.

"You need to come home more often," his father said.

"Thanks," Zuko managed, his temper getting the better of him finally, though he wasn't sure whether to be proud of himself or to regret it. "But I'm okay not being here."

His father stood up very fast and Zuko instinctively stepped back — the only person in the world he stepped back from. "Zuko, I give you a beautiful house to live in and everything you could ever want, and all I ask from you is your respect. And yet every single time, you are ungrateful. What have I done, Zuko, to deserve such an ungrateful, spoiled child? I gave you everything you could have asked for, and you repay me by associating with my degenerate brother?"

"He's not —” Zuko said, very quietly, and then stopped.

"You have too much of your mother in you," his father said, shaking his head.

Something snapped. Zuko's hands twisted into hard fists. "Don't you talk about her," he snapped, low and threatening.

His father raised his head very slowly and the cold flame in his eyes was hot now, burning. "She left you, Zuko," he said. "Don't defend that bitch."

"I said," Zuko said, rage running over him, "don't talk about her.  _ Sir _ ."

He knew what he'd done immediately, but it was worth it.

At least, it was worth it until his father drove a fist into Zuko's sternum.

The air whooshed straight out of Zuko's lungs, emptying them immediately. He doubled over, desperately trying to suck in another breath, but his ribs felt like they were pressing against his spine. He found himself suddenly staring at his unlaced shoes, focusing on scuffs on the toes.

_ Stupid _ , said the tiny, smart part of his brain.  _ So stupid. _

"I'll say what I want about your mother," Zuko's father snarled from above him. "And you'll learn to keep your mouth shut someday, you son of a bitch."

Slowly, Zuko managed to straighten up, even though his ribs were screaming. He needed to apologize, needed to keep his head down, needed to — 

"I'd rather be like her," Zuko said quietly, weakly, with barely any air to form the words. "At least she managed to get out of this house. She was too smart for you."

Fire flared in his father's face and Zuko was ten again, listening to his mother leave in the rain, listening to her crying. He was twelve and his father's hand was on the back of his head, holding him by the hair, and the heat of the fireplace was getting closer and closer but Zuko couldn't wrestle his face away.

He was eighteen and still too scared to move out and he was right there, in the moment, when his father's next blow landed, off to one side this time. Something cracked. Pain sprained around Zuko's chest. He couldn't breathe. His vision clouded.

The next punch was inevitable, and just for spite, and this time, Zuko didn't talk back. He just let it happen. It was easier than having to consider what the hell he'd done to deserve this.

* * *

Katara had gotten so used to having Zuko around that when he didn't show up on Monday morning, she didn't know what to do. Like an idiot, she stood around her locker for an extra five minutes, waiting for him to show up, but there was no sign of him. Well, Katara told herself, setting her jaw, she should be able to get through one sick Zuko day without hurting herself too much. Besides, she could throw a much more competent punch now. And it wasn't like her former friends were  even trying to come near her these days. 

And if it got too bad, she'd just go find Suki. Even Hemah wouldn't be able to handle a hockey stick to the face.

But it turned out to be a quiet day. Katara went from class to class, keeping her eyes out for both Hemah's huge mass of dark hair, and Zuko's black leather jacket, but saw neither. She stopped briefly to talk to Toph between second and third period, but Toph hadn't seen — heard from — Zuko either. 

"He'd got his own shit," she said, shrugging and leaning on the end of her white cane as though it was an accessory rather than a necessity. "He'll be back."

And that seemed to be all Katara would be able to get out of the situation.

"You okay?" Sokka asked on the way home, glancing over at Katara. "You're a little spacey today."

Katara pulled herself away from looking out the window and forced a smile. "No, I'm fine."

"You sure?" Sokka looked at her again and she wished he would keep his eyes on the road. "You've been kind of a space cadet lately. Do I need to worry about you? Are you sick? Aang." He glanced in the rearview mirror. "Feel Katara's forehead, see if she's warm."

"Do not." Katara jerked her head away, but Aang hadn't even tried to follow Sokka's direction. Instead, he was looking at her in great concern, which was equally annoying.

She tugged her jacket closer around her neck and wished she could tell them that she was worried Zuko had died in some bar fight like an idiot, but she had a feeling that wouldn't go over well in this crowd. So instead, she just faked a yawn and said, "Long day."

"It's only Monday," Sokka said.

Katara didn't answer. They drove past Zuko's uncle's house and she saw his car parked outside — that was a good thing at least. Maybe after dinner she'd go over and check on him. That seemed like a good idea. You know. As a friend would do. Just to make sure he was doing okay.

She wasn't sure why she was so worried. He probably just had a stomach ache or something. Maybe he'd just skipped. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done that, she assumed.

It had her in a fog all evening though, through the homework she had to reread because she hadn't taken in a single line of  _ Jane Eyre _ , and into dinner which she nearly burned. It was concerning enough that Gran-Gran, who had just finished the vacuuming, had to come take it away from her, shooing Katara off to go peel some potatoes instead.

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" Gran-Gran asked as she puttered around the stove, adjusting the flame.

"Fine." Katara focused on the skin of the potato. "I'm sorry, Gran-Gran, I'm just so tired today."

Her grandmother smiled, a sparkling little curve of mischief in her wrinkled face. "Sokka told me you had a date on Saturday night. Is that what you're tired from?"

Katara's face heated. "No, Gran-Gran, it wasn't a date. It was just a friend. We went to see some music."

"A  _ boy _ friend?" Gran-Gran said, winking.

"Yes, he's a boy, but it's not like that." Katara felt stupid, like a child trying to explain herself and stumbling over her words. "He's been very nice to me at school."

Gran-Gran looked up with sharp blue eyes, her hands working over the stove without seeming to need her mind. "How  _ is _ school?"

Katara swallowed. "Fine," she said, mouth dry.

"Hmm." Gran-Gran, disbelieving, turned away. "Well, I hope this not-a-boyfriend is better than that Jet character. I never much liked that boy, I'll have you know."

"I know," Katara said quietly. "This one is better. He's not my boyfriend though."

"Hmmm." Gran-Gran put a lid over the pan, her mouth pressed together in disbelief, and Katara sighed. There was nothing she could do to convince anyone that she wasn't interested in Zuko, apparently. Sometimes even herself, she thought wryly, thinking of his hand on her hip and how hyperaware she'd been of his presence beside her. 

"The potatoes are done," Gran-Gran pointed out. "You're re-peeling them."

Katara, embarrassed, stopped.

Gran-Gran put a hand on her elbow. "Go sit down, sweetheart. Let me cook for once. You don't need to take care of anyone right now."

"I can do it," Katara insisted.

"Sit," Gran-Gran said firmly and that was the end of it.

After dinner, over which Sokka badgered Katara with questions she barely heard, Katara waited until everyone else was engaged in their various evening activities and then snuck out the front door, careful to close it behind her in the most gentle way possible. She didn't want to give anyone the wrong idea, she told herself as she skipped the second step, the one that creaked. Sokka probably wouldn't be too upset, but it was one thing to go out with some boy, and another to go over to his house. Which, she reminded herself, she was only doing because she was worried about him. It wasn't some big romantic thing. It was concern.

That was it.

Her breath fogged in the air around her — it was nearly winter, how had that happened so quickly? — and she pulled her arms in a little tighter to her body. She'd need to trade out her jackets for coats pretty soon, but maybe not yet. Katara could handle a little more cold than this. Above her, streetlights glowed like lost moons, each one a pool of yellow for her to bask in as she walked through it.

There were lights on in Iroh's house, downstairs and in one of the upstairs windows, and that was good. Katara, only slightly nervous, climbed the steps and knocked on the door.

It was opened by Zuko's uncle, not Zuko himself, which was enough to make Katara rethink her plans in a hurry. She plastered on her best smile. "Mr. Iroh," she said brightly. "It's so nice to see you."

"Hello, Miss Katara," Iroh said. Though he still had the jolly look to his face that she'd seen on him last time, the spark in his eyes had dimmed and his usually smiling mouth turned down at the corners. He shifted so he took up the whole doorway, clearly not wanting to let her in. "What can I do for you tonight?"

"I'm looking for Zuko," Katara said, peering over Iroh's shoulder as though Zuko would be there, lurking somewhere in the quiet living room. "He wasn't at school today and I was worried about him."

"Ah." Again, there was no smile from Iroh, and that was starting to really concern Katara. "Yes, I understand. My nephew was sick and stayed home today. He will be back at school soon, I am sure, as soon as this cold clears up. I am sorry he has worried you, but I promise, he will be okay."

The way Iroh said the last part — like it was a lot bigger than a cold, like "okay" encompassed Zuko's whole life, like Iroh was trying to convince himself — was what convinced Katara that Iroh was lying.

She just barely stopped herself from pursing her lips in distaste. That wouldn't help the situation. Instead, she held her smile in place through sheer force of will and said, "Can I please see him? Maybe that could cheer him up. They say laughter is the best medicine."

Iroh shook his head. "That is very sweet of you, Miss Katara, but I do not think so. He may still be contagious right now, and we wouldn't want you getting sick either. Perhaps tomorrow or the next day when he is back at school. You will be welcome to drop by after that. I'm very sorry to turn you away, but I'm sure you understand."

What Katara understood was that Iroh was hiding something from her, and she absolutely intended to find out what.

So she locked her hands behind her back and said, "All right, well, tell him I hope he gets better soon!" and waited until Iroh closed the door on her before darting down the sidewalk and onto the lawn at the side of the house.

She looked up at the lighted window, trying to calculate if it was Zuko's room from the one time she'd been there. It was difficult to tell, but she thought she was right. Briefly, she considered throwing something at the window to get him to notice her, but that still gave him the opportunity to tell her to go away. No no no, she could have that. 

So she started looking around for other options.

It was the tree that gave her the best access, she decided. There was a small lip outside the lit window and it would be easy enough to reach if she scooted along one of the large branches. But getting up there ... that would be tough. But she was pretty sure she could manage it. At least she'd worn pants today, that would make this way easier.

So Katara circled the tree until she found the lowest branch, about a foot and a half over her head, and jumped for it.

She wasn't particularly athletic, and she had a heft to her that some other people probably didn't, but what she did have going for her was stubbornness. She caught the branch in both hands and scrambled awkwardly up the tree, the toes of her shoes scratching at the bark until she got one leg over the thick branch and hauled herself up. Then she took a minute breathing hard, to figure out where to go next.

Once she got up into the tree, it was an easy climb. The branches were large and spaced close enough for easy grabbing, but not too close that she got stuck between them. It was almost, though not quite, like climbing a staircase. Until, at least, she got up to the branch that extended towards the window and had to sit down on it, scooting awkwardly along on her butt over empty air until she was able to gratefully step down onto the ledge of roof as quietly as possible.

Then she took  _ another _ second to breathe, because yeah, there'd been a couple moments where she'd thought she might die, and then she was able to look into the window and see if she had to climb all the way back down.

But no, she'd been right. It was Zuko's room and he was lying on his back on his bed, half propped up by about a dozen pillows. He was fully dressed and didn't look particularly sick — just as she'd thought — but his brow was furrowed. There was music on and a record circled lazily on a turntable in the corner, but surprisingly it was quiet enough that she couldn't make out the details through the glass.

He was reading and didn't notice her.

Annoyed, Katara tapped on the glass with her index finger.

Zuko looked up, saw her, and frowned. But she kept tapping, so eventually he put his book down and got up, moving slowly and awkwardly and then reaching out to open the window one handed. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" he hissed, looking at her, at the roof, and then at the ground. "How did you even get up here?"

Katara folded her arms. "You don't look like you have a head cold," she snapped back, but quietly. "Can I come in, please, before someone looks up and sees me?"

Zuko muttered something, but pushed the widow up all the way and moved so she could awkwardly slip inside, throwing one leg over the sill and hauling the rest of her in behind. Once she’d stood up, she dusted bits of tree and roofing off her pants and onto Zuko's clean floor, while he closed the window and sat back down on the bed, stretching his legs out to fill the entire thing.

Undeterred, Katatara sat on the edge of the bed near his hips, where there was enough room for her to squeeze in. "Why weren't you in school?" she demanded.

"I was sick." Zuko said.

"Not even. You don't sound sick. Mr. Iroh said you had a head cold." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't see a single tissue in here, so I'm pretty sure you're fine."

"All right," Zuko said, sounding even more annoyed with her than he usually did. "So I don't have a cold. That doesn't mean I'm not sick."

"I'd accept that if your uncle hadn't just lied to my face."

Zuko looked at her, hard and long, and Katara found herself uncomfortable under the sudden attention. But looking away seemed like  a cop-out.

"So maybe I just skipped," Zuko said finally.

"You haven't actually skipped school since we met," Katara pointed out, knowing that it sounded like it meant more than it did. "It's your job to protect me, right?"

"Did you get beat up?" Zuko asked, somewhat icely.

"No, asshole, I'm not worried about you because I needed you to keep me safe. I'm worried because there's something wrong with you." She scowled at him. "Why do you always have to be such a douche?"

And she reached out, annoyed, and shoved him in the chest.

She didn't think it had been that hard — more playful than anything else, and maybe an excuse to touch him — but Zuko let out a grunt of pain. His cheeks went white and his lips pressed together into a hard, pale line. Katara yanked her hand back as Zuko's rose to the place she'd touched, fingers like claws. His breathing was hard, fast, and somewhat shallow.

"Zuko," Katara said, her chest filling with a kind of cold anger that she'd never truly felt before. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Zuko leaned into the pillows, his head tilting back, mouth slightly open as he caught his breath. His voice was strained. "I told you, I'm sick."

Uninterested in his excuses, Katara reached out.

"Don't do it again," Zuko snapped.

"Shut up, you stubborn doofus," Katara said and slipped her fingers under the edge of his shirt. He opened his mouth, but she was too fast for him, pulling the cloth up, baing his stomach and the bottom of his ribs.

She'd expected maybe a bruise, but this was ... unfathomable.

Zuko's stomach and ribs were covered in red-purple bruises. They blurred together into one spreading horror, mottling his skin dark and bloody under the surface. Katara put her free hand over her mouth, horrified. The other hand she laid gently on Zuko's stomach, her fingers skimming over his skin.

Zuko's throat bobbed. "Careful," he said, gruff. "If you push too hard and I start screaming, Iroh will catch you up here."

"Did you tell him not to let me in?" she said, staring at his bruised ribs.

"I didn't want you to see me a mess like this." Zuko's hands opened and closed. "I'm supposed to be the tough one here. Hard to be tough when you have two cracked ribs."

"Cracked ribs?" Katara's voice rocketed up an octave.

"They're not broken."

She looked up at him, trying to get him to meet her eyes, but he was very stubbornly looking at a corner of the white ceiling. "Zuko," she said quietly. "What happened?"

"I fell." 

She couldn't deny the irony of her own words being thrown back at her, but that didn't make her any less annoyed. "If you don't tell me," she said, "I'm going to push on your cracked ribs until you scream like a little girl."

He looked down at her, his motions sharp. "You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?"

He met her eyes and held her gaze for a long moment. Katara suddenly became very aware of her hand on his skin, the heat from his bruises beneath her palm. She wanted to ... hug him? No, that would hurt. But she did want to comfort him somehow. She just didn't know how to without breaking him more.

Finally, Zuko leaned back into the pillows. "I got in a fight with my dad."

Katara's vision went red.

After she managed to take a few deep breaths and stop herself from running right over to Zuko's house and murdering his father in cold blood, she said, "A fight?"

"I didn't do much fighting," Zuko admitted.

Katara ran her fingers over Zuko's bruises, delicate as a butterfly's wing. "He really did a number on you.  _ Two _ cracked ribs?"

"Yeah, it wasn't ... great."

"Can't you ...?" Katara cast around for the right thing to say. "Report it?"

Zuko laughed, then coughed, then winced, holding his ribs. "Not like anyone will listen. Not anyone important. Besides, if I start talking to authority figures, then Azula will start getting it worse than me in retaliation, and she's a bitch, but she's still my little sister. I can take it. I just have to make it through this year and then I can leave and never come back."

Katara bit her lip. "You might not get to the end of the year if he keeps doing shit like this."

"I'll make it."

"But —”

Zuko groaned and put his hand on top of hers, which was still sitting on his chest. The hair on Katara's arms rose and goosebumps rolled up her shoulders. But Zuko wasn't looking at her, wasn't aware of the heat running from her stomach to her throat and back. His fingers were light on hers, but that was probably more to avoid pressure on his bruises.

"Katara," he said softly, eyes closed, "I'll make it. I promise."

Katara swallowed hard and nodded.

He cracked an eye. "Okay?"

"Okay." She was embarrassed about how small her voice sounded but she was once again finding herself hyper aware of being near him, of touching him, bruises and all. How was he so warm? Maybe it was something to do with the injuries. That must be it. It was definitely because he was injured.

She tried not to glance at his chest, at their hands, but it was difficult. Mostly, again, because he  _ looked like shit _ . She told herself. Repeatedly.

"Don't worry about me," Zuko said, sighing now. "I've had worse."

"That doesn't make this better."

"I guess."

"Your dad ..." Katara said, then didn't know what to say next. What was there  _ to _ say?  _ Is an awful person _ ? No, that sounded too easy. Of course he was awful, he'd broken two of his son's ribs. Cracked them, whatever.  _ Deserves to die a horrible death at my hand? _ Yeah, that was more accurate, and felt right given how much anger she was feeling in the moment, but probably wasn't helpful or constructive in this situation.

"Yeah," Zuko said in a resigned tone. "He's a real asshole."

Katara snorted. "Why don't you just live here?" she said.

"I basically do."

"I mean for real."

Zuko shrugged and still wouldn't look at her. He was usually so intent on eye contact, using it to his advantage, that his lack of it made Katara's chest clench. There was no other option: she was going to have to murder his dad.

"That seems like it would be ..." He paused, struggling for words. "I mean, he's still my dad."

"He cracked your ribs!"

Zuko managed a smile. "Keep your voice down or Iroh will catch you."

Grumbling, Katara quieted herself. "I don't understand why you don't just leave."

"I don't know," Zuko said, more of a sigh than a sentence. "It's just ... what if I miss my chance to prove that I'm ... you know, a good enough son for him?"

It was instinct, not intention, that made Katara pull her hand from under Zuko's and put her head down on his chest, wrapping her arms around him. He grunted, probably in pain, but didn't push her off. In fact, he seemed to have stopped breathing altogether, his arms and legs stiff and straight, the muscles of his neck clenched.

Katara ignored his obvious discomfort, and squeezed tighter, though not too tight because of the whole rib situation. She was usually good with words, with comfort, but this one was somewhat outside her area of expertise. How could she explain to him that no matter what kind of son he was, he didn't deserve this? That his father was the one in the wrong — the bad guy in so many different stories but maybe the worst in this one — and that Zuko didn't need to try to please him? That wasn't something she was equipped to handle. After years and years of being a caretaker to her family, to Aang, to anyone else who happened to stumble into her circle, she should be better able to take on Zuko's pain too, but it was ... well, there was a lot of it. Being there for him would only go so far.

"You are good enough," she said, her face half-squished into his rumbled t-shirt, still pushed up to bare his stomach. "I don't care what your dad says. You  _ are _ good enough."

A moment past, long and heartrending, and then a tentative hand fell on Katara's back.

"Thanks," Zuko said, very gruff, more so than she'd ever heard him as though the emotion was too much for his own voice. "That's ... thank you."

Katara held on tighter.

"Okay, yes, thank you," he said, a little lighter now, "but you need to get off me or you're going to puncture a lung."

"Oops," Katara rolled away, taking her weight off the continent of bruises. "Sorry, I ... got a little carried away."

"Yeah, I can ..." Zuko cleared his throat. "I got that."

She looked at him, finding herself still nestled in the circle of his arm. It wasn't ... well, it seemed unintentional, the two of them lying side by side on their backs, his arm around her, fingers just barely brushing her side. It wasn't happening for any reason, she insisted to herself, but it was hard to do that when she also really didn't want to get up.

Zuko nudged her. "You're a ... a good friend, you know that?"

Katara made a face, wondering why that stung when she should be over the moon. "Thanks. I think."

Another brief moment of silence and she watched his face, the downturn of his mouth that was so characteristic, so  _ Zuko _ . His lips were thin, pale, like he was  _ trying _ to look upset all the time, but Katara thought about his smile, the little curl of lip and cheek. 

She liked making him smile.

She liked ....

Well, goddamn it, she liked  _ him _ .

Like  _ that _ .

Damn it, Suki had been right all along. 

And right after he'd told her she was a "good friend", what were the odds that she'd be rejected before she even asked? It made sense though. After all, she was the one who'd been repeating over and over that they didn't belong together. They were too different, came from worlds too far apart to consider combining them into ... well, anything at all really. The friendship itself was a miracle. She should be happy for that miracle, and not bitter that she didn't get another one.

She looked up at the ceiling of his bedroom, one leg cocked so her knee pressed against his. He didn't pull away, but also didn't try to bring her closer — both could have been because of the bruises, she supposed, but it didn't give her a lot of insight about his feelings one way or the other.

She couldn't push this. Just because she'd let her feelings get away with her  _ again _ didn't mean that he had to reciprocate in any way. 

And also, he had two cracked ribs, this wasn't the time for her to lay her feelings on him.

So she just lay there in his bed with his arm around her and his warmth close and clotting her senses, and tried not to think about kissing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Balancing the heaviness of this chapter was really, really hard, I need to tell you. Generally, the tone of this story is much lighter, so this feels a little out of place but honestly? It just seemed like the right way to take this and maybe that's right and maybe it's not, but that's what I've got.
> 
> The very end is heavily inspired by my favorite scene of teenage longing ever in "Some Kind of Wonderful", my favorite John Hughes film, in which Mary Stuart Masterson shows us how to properly pine for your best friend. If you've seen the movie, you know the part I'm talking about. If you haven't seen the movie ... do it.


	16. What's Love Got To Do With It

It took three days for Zuko to be able to stand for enough time to be able to go back to school. After that, it was another week for his ribs to stop hurting enough so he didn’t want to die if he went up stairs too fast. They weren’t healed — Iroh had informed him it would be at least a month — but at least he was able to walk to the second floor of Iroh's house without having to sit down halfway there.

Katara was at his house every single day.

He'd told Iroh to let her in. It was easier than having her come through his window again, though he wouldn't necessarily have minded that either. There was something kind of hot about having a girl sneak in through his window, though it was a little bit less of a turn on when he was too busted up to take advantage of the situation.

And that was really becoming the problem. He was quickly realizing that this crush was a really,  _ really _ stupid one.

As in it was making him really stupid. It made perfect sense that he was into Katara because who else was willing to fight him, anyone who was mean to him, and his own shithead father? But the way he was being about it, like a middle schooler with his first crush? Yeah, that was pretty stupid. He wished he could just act like an adult around her, maybe tell her how he felt, maybe just be suave and charming for once in his life, but of course that wasn't going to be in the cards. Instead, whenever she smiled at him at school, he tripped over his own feet.

Which again, with the whole rib thing was really starting to take a physical toll on him.

The first person he told was Toph.

They were sitting behind the school trying to stay warm as Zuko smoked his second cigarette of the morning — both of them were skipping class and trying not to be too obvious about it. The air smelled of winter, the chill beginning to dig its way into Zuko's bones. One of his hands was shoved in his jacket pocket while the other, fingers going white with cold, held the cigarette up to his face.

"What's wrong with you?" Toph asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You've been ... quiet." Toph drew her knees up to her chest, putting her chin on her knees. He should have been telling her to go back to class, probably, but he didn't really have time to fight with Toph about her education right now, because he was busy throwing himself the biggest pity part of the decade.

"I'm always quiet."

Toph made a face. "You've been weird about being quiet."

Zuko glanced at her, the way her bangs fell into her face and over her pale green eyes. She didn't need to push them out, he knew, but there was always something about her hair that made Toph look messy and unkempt, and it was probably the hair. It also made her look ... younger, somehow. The wild hair, the too-big clothing ... she was a rich girl who looked like a homeless child.

"I have two broken ribs," he pointed out.

Toph rolled her eyes. "Would you shut up about that? They're cracked."

"Toph, come on, they're still my ribs."

"Well it's not your face this time," Toph muttered, her nose wrinkling. "I'd take that as a victory."

Zuko made a disgusted noise, as though that somehow encompassed the fear and hate and self-pity that rolled over him whenever anyone pointed out his scar. "You know, a real friend would pretend  _ that _ never happened and stop bringing it up."

"But it did happen," Toph said dryly, "and I for one ain't planning on letting your asshole dad get away with his shit. You know, you gotta get that dude to leave you alone, given —”

"I'm in love with Katara," Zuko said.

That shut Toph up. For once. For about five whole seconds, it was really worth saying it just to watch Toph open and close her mouth like a fish.

And then it stopped being worth it immediately.

"Goddamn, boy, I knew that!" Toph said, way too loudly, her nasty smile cracking her face open like an egg. "I wasn't expecting you to get your head out of your ass for long enough to figure it out though. It's 'cause she's hot, isn't it. It's hot and you're weak. Weak!"

"Thanks, you fucking spazz," Zuko snapped. "Could you keep your voice down, please?"

"What, because you think someone in this goddamn shit stain of a school doesn't know you've got the hots for the princess?" Toph snorted. "Everyone knows. Except her and you."

"Okay, so you're totally over exaggerating on that," Zuko said, taking a long drag of his cigarette and making his chest ache like he'd gotten punched all over again. "Not everyone knows. I don't really know enough people to make it  _ everyone _ ."

"Splitting hairs," Toph said. "Dangerous."

Zuko flipped her the bird, because he knew she couldn't get mad about it, since she couldn't see it.

"Okay, okay," Toph said, still sniggering to herself. "So you're madly in love with Suzie Homemaker over there. What do you want me to do about it?"

"Commiseration would be nice," Zuko grumbled.

"About  _ what _ ?" Toph sneered. "You having a decent human feeling? You getting better taste than Mai, that dumb bitch? Am I supposed to care that you finally got your shit together? No wait, am I supposed to feel bad for you?"

"She's not into me," Zuko said, shrugging and trying to pretend that didn't make him want to lie down on the cold, wet ground and never get up again. "That's what friends do. They say nice things when a girl rejects you."

To his great surprise, instead of sneering some more or, God forbid, actually being nice, Toph threw her head back and cackled. She had a laugh like a flock of crows, grating and loud. 

"What's your deal?" Zuko snapped.

Toph kept laughing, harder than before if that was possible. 

"Toph, stop it," Zuko growled.

Inside the school, the bell rang for the next class.

Still laughing, Toph got up and brushed off her jeans. She turned back towards the school, shaking her head and readying her cane.

"Okay, what are you laughing about?" Zuko yelled, dropping his cigarette and scrambling up to follow her, but Toph was too far ahead of him to catch up with unless he ran, which he wasn't going to do. "Toph," he yelled after her, sticking his freezing hands into his pockets. "Toph, what's your fucking damage?"

"You're so fucking stupid!" Toph yelled over her shoulder, tapping her way towards the school building. "Just so dumb it's a miracle you can put two words together!"

And she banged her way into the school, leaving Zuko standing in the cold, annoyed, confused, and trying to work out exactly what he'd done this time. 

* * *

When Katara closed her locker after sixth period, right before her study hall, Suki was directly on the other side of the door, grinning like a maniac.

Katara jumped and pressed a hand to her chest. "Holy crap, Suki, you could have killed me."

"You're fine," Suki said. She had on an oversized green sweater and a plaid scarf wound around her neck against the first snow of the year, something that Katara was already tired of hearing about. Too early her butt, November was the right time for snow. Heck, it was probably a little late.

Suki kept grinning and Katara, because she was a masochist apparently, really wanted to know why.

"So," Suki said, "how's your boyfriend?"

"Not my boyfriend." Katara readjusted her armful of books. It was a tired conversation — ever since the party they'd dragged Zuko to, Suki hadn't shut up for a single second about him, and about Katara, and about what might be going on between them. Which, Katara reminded herself with no small measure of annoyed disappointment, was nothing. Cracked ribs aside — given that according to Zuko they were almost healed — he hadn't made a single move. At all. In fact, she'd noticed that he was spending a lot of time intentionally  _ not _ touching her. She must have been too obvious, too overly touchy, and he was trying to let her down gently instead of telling her to screw off.

"Whatever, you liar," Suki said cheerfully. "Isn't he supposed to be watching you?"

"He says I can walk myself to class," Katara said. "No one's bothered me in months, anyway. Besides, I have you."

"Mmmm," Suki said, her stormcloud eyes narrowing at Katara as though trying to pull all her secrets out through willpower alone. "Seems fishy if you ask me. Trouble in paradise?"

"There  _ is no paradise _ ," Katara said from between gritted teeth.

"Ha!" They both turned to see Sokka appearing at Katara's other shoulder, snow in his hair, his jacket dusted across the wide shoulders. "No paradise, huh? Tell that to my english teacher, she keeps getting mad at me for not doing my reading ... what's that dude's name? Miffton? Million?"

"Milton, Sokka," Katara said, long suffering nerd that she was. "His name is Milton. What are you doing here?"

"What, I'm not allowed to talk to my sister?" Sokka put an arm on her shoulder, his elbow digging into her ear. "Come on, Katara, be chill for once."

"I will not."

Sokka rolled his eyes and looked conspiratorially at Suki. "Yeah, she's kind of too tightly wound to chill. Sup, Sukes?"

"Nada," Suki said, sticking her hands in her pockets. "You guys gonna be able to play tomorrow?"

"I mean,  _ I _ will," Sokka said, puffing his chest out. "A little snow doesn't bother me. Besides, we've only got a couple more games left in the season and I'm not going to miss out on them because my teammates are wussy little jerks, you know?"

Suki nodded. "Yeah, I get that."

Katara rolled her eyes. These two were so ... so stupid. Every time they talked, it was like this, some kind of dumb jock language that Katara didn't care to understand. And Suki was making fun of her about Zuko? Please.

"So what's up?" Sokka said, glancing at Katara. "Don't you have study hall?"

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth. "That's where I'm trying to go."

"Whatever, it's not even a real class. What are they gonna do, get mad if you don't go?"

"Yes, you lunk, they are, because they take attendance. It's still a class. What about that is difficult for your tiny little pea brain to understand?"

"Oooh, touchy touchy," Sokka said, not making any move to back off and keeping his arm balanced on her shoulder. "What's gotten into you?"

"She's fighting with her boyfriend," Suki said, gleeful.

"He's not my —”

"Wait, what boyfriend?" Sokka stopped dead in the middle of the hall and the weight of his arm on her was enough that Katara had to stop too or risk being spun around when the momentum on half her body gave out. Suki slowed, coming around a little bit so she was facing them, but Sokka wasn't looking at her. He was peering down at Katara, eyebrows drawn into threatening lines. "Do you have a boyfriend? I thought you didn't. Who is it?"

"He's not my goddamn boyfriend," Katara growled, pushing Sokka off her so she could steady herself. "That's what Suki calls Zuko. She thinks there's something going on that there isn't, because she's an idiot."

"Oh," said Sokka, relaxing. "Oh, no, she thinks something's going on because Zuko's super into you. Good call, Suki."

And then they high fived, which somehow made the situation so much worse.

"He is  _ not _ super into me," Katara said between her teeth, her stomach a mass of butterflies despite her words. "You're just reading into things. I wouldn't expect you to be able to understand other humans, Sokka, not if your life depended on it. What, you think I'm going to take relationship advice from someone who can't even make himself breakfast?"

"My breakfast making inabilities have nothing to do with my romantic prowess," Sokka said haughtily. "Wait, I thought you liked Zuko."

"I absolutely do not like Zuko," Katara lied.

"Liar," Suki said. "You totally like him."

"Shut the hell up, Suki," Katara grumbled. "You don't know jack shit."

"Wow, language," Sokka said, though he had no leg to stand on. "See, you even talk like him. Look, I'm not saying it's ideal that you're crushing on some crusty punk son of a bitch from the nice side of the tracks. It wouldn't be my go-to for setting you up. But you don't seem to like any of the guys on the team, and at least he's not as stuck up as Jet was. I'm not saying Zuko is my favorite person in the world, but you could do worse."

"Wow, thanks for that stirring endorsement," Katara said, trying to walk away but getting blocked in by Suki who seemed to think this was really funny. "I'll make sure to let him know, wait, that would be  _ never _ because I'm not interested in Zuko and he's not into me."

"Oooh, so many lies," Suki said.

That was when Katara got mad.

She whipped around to Sokka, one finger extended so it almost pressed into Suki's chest. "Suki said she'd do you," she said, all in a rush. "She thinks you're hot and that time she kissed you  _ was _ on a bet but the bet was with me and it was because she was all down to have your babies."

Sokka seemed to malfunction and his face went blank.

On the other hand, Suki's mouth dropped open, though to her credit she didn't blush. "Oh my  _ god _ , Katara," she said, her voice slightly too high pitched. "What the ... how  _ could _ you?"

"Suck it," Katara said in her best Zuko impersonation, and took advantage of the situation to dart around Suki and take off down the hall.

Behind her, Sokka must have recovered somewhat, because she heard him say, "Do you really think I'm hot?" in a strangled voice.

Suki cleared her throat. "I mean," she said, "yeah. I'm not  _ blind _ ."

Grinning, Katara slid into her study hall just as the bell rang. A good day's work all around. That would teach them to mess with her personal business.

Jocks. Every single one of them was dumb as a box of hair. Gotta love 'em.

* * *

Zuko chewed on his lip as he wound through the crowd in the school parking lot, not really seeing anyone around him. Toph trailed along beside him, her hand on his elbow, but he barely felt it. He was too busy thinking about how the  _ hell _ he was supposed to ask Katara out.

After all this time of being friends, it would be stupid, wouldn't it? There was no way she would be interested, or even be able to swap the idea of being his friend to being ... well anything else. What was he supposed to do?  _ Hey Katara, I know you've said you'd never date me, and I said you weren't my type, but let's forget all that and give this crazy thing a try, what do you think? _

Even in his head, it sounded stupid.

"You good in there?" Toph said.

"Hmm?"

"I've been talking," Toph said, huffy and annoyed, "and you haven't been listening. What's going on in your head?"

"Nothing. Sorry."

"Thinking about Katara, hmm?" Toph said, her smile too wide again in that way he was really learning to hate.

"No."

"Liar."

It would be pointless to lie twice, so Zuko didn't. Instead he just deposited Toph by the passenger side of his car and started around the front to get in.

He was so involved in thinking about Katara that he nearly walked straight into the real thing.

"Oh, thank god," she said, grabbing his arm to stop him from knocking her over — her hand burned like an iron brand even through his jacket and the flannel shirt he wore under it. "I was worried you'd left already. Can you give us a ride?"

"What?" said Zuko, clearly at his most intelligent when the girl he wanted to put his hands all over was standing in front of him with her  _ hand _ on his  _ arm _ .

Katara stepped back and Zuko tried to gage the situation. She was wearing a big sweater with a long coat over it to keep off the chill, and she had a handful of books clutched against her chest. Behind her, unnoticed until now, was Aang, also with books and a sour expression, though for once it didn't seem directed at Zuko.

"Can you," Katara said again, more slowly, enunciating her words as though he was an idiot, which he was, "give me and Aang a ride home? Please?"

"What about Sokka?" he said.

Katara rolled her eyes and half turned, waving a hand down the parking lot as though that would explain everything.

Zuko looked over her shoulder and found Sokka's beat up volvo, but more importantly, found Sokka himself. He was standing at the hood of the car, on which Suki was sitting, and they were making out with the passion of new, disgusting love. Sokka's fingers were wrapped around Suki's belt loops, pulling her close, and her hands had disappeared somewhere under his letterman jacket.

"Gross," Zuko said, wondering how it would feel to do that with Katara.

"Exactly." Katara sighed. She hadn't taken her hand off his arm and it was driving him insane, but he tried to pretend it wasn't happening so he could have a normal, grown up conversation without going psycho. "So as you can see, it's really unlikely that I'll be able to get a ride home from him. Can you please drop me and Aang at home? I know you're taking Toph, and we're out of the way —”

"No, it's fine," Zuko said, too quickly. "Toph's the one who's out of the way, really, but she'll break my ankles if I don't give her a ride. Get in. Toph, you're in the back with Aang."

"Oh, come on," Toph said.

"Your legs are shorter. Come on, shrimp, scoot."

Grumbling curses, Toph got into the back seat, but by the time Zuko managed to slide in behind the wheel, she and Aang were already engaged in a heated discussion about their science teacher and whether or not his hair was real, so she couldn't have been too upset.

Katara, after a minute, got into the front, folding herself in delicately so her skirt stayed down over her knees. She seemed ... nervous, which was weird given that she'd been in Zuko's car a number of times and hadn't worried about her cuts and scrapes bleeding on the seats then. Maybe he'd been too obvious? Oh, God, that had to be it. She knew he was into her and she didn't like it. He was being too overbearing.

All right, message received, Zuko thought stoically as he got into the car. If he was making her uncomfortable, he just had to be even more careful not to touch her or get in her space. That was the best course of action.

That didn't stop him from glancing at Katara's pursed lips as he started the car, and then hate himself for it.

"So," he said gruffly, "when did  _ that _ start?" He jerked his chin towards Sokka and Suki as the car pulled out of the spot and then coasted along past them. Suki's hands had migrated up to Sokka's hair and the neon yellow polish on her fingers flashed as she pulled him down against her.

Zuko looked away quickly and forced himself not to look at what color nail polish Katara had on.

"Ugh," Katara said, with all the disgust of a sibling being forced to watch her brother necking. "It's my own fault. I outed Suki to Sokka earlier today because she was pissing me off about ... uh ... things. And apparently he responded better than I'd hoped. So now I have to deal with this crime against humanity."

Zuko shook his head, unable to stop from grinning at her pain, which was rude, but also it was really funny. "Kind of backfired on you, hmm?"

"Alright so it wasn't my  _ best _ plan," said Katara in that uptight, snooty voice she got when she knew she'd fucked up. "I didn't expect it to work out so well. I promise you, my goal has never been to make Sokka's life easier on him."

Zuko snorted.

"Besides," Katara said, "I had good reason."

He chanced a glance at her, under the pretense of turning out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Aang and Toph were talking over each other in the back seat, but both of them had the kind of good-natured insistence to their voices that made Zuko think they were probably still getting along. If Toph pulled Aang's head off his neck, Katara would never forgive him for letting it happen. He just had to make sure she didn't get carried away.

But all thoughts about Toph and Aang were driven out of his head when he looked at Katara's face and found it bright red.

He blinked.

"Hey, Katara?" he said, immediately forgetting his vow not to get into her personal space and/or business. "What conversation did you want to avoid?"

"Nothing," Katara said quickly. "It wasn't anything important."

"Then why did you set your brother up to get laid if it wasn't —”

"Guh- _ ross _ !" Katara said loudly. "Oh my god, please do not put the word 'laid' in the same sentence as 'your brother', that is  _ disgusting _ ." 

Zuko grinned. He couldn't help it. "Katara, I  _ really _ hate to break it to you, but they're gonna get it on the next free second they get. I mean, hey, you probably gave them the opportunity by getting a ride home. I wouldn't sit in the back seat of that car again for a while, you get my drift?"

"Uh,  _ grody _ !" Katara squealed.

"What's going on up there?" Aang demanded.

"Katara's coming to the realization that Suki's gonna doink her brother," Zuko said. "She's not happy."

"Gross," Aang said with great feeling, while Toph cackled.

Katara had her hands over his mouth and when Zuko looked, he saw that her nails were painted pale lavender.

Goddamnit.

"So what was Suki saying?" he asked again to get his mind off stupid things like Katara's nails.

"Nothing, I told you," Katara said.

"Come on."

"Ugh, fine." She dropped her voice a little bit so the backseat gang wouldn't hear. "She, um ... thinks ... you're interested in me. You know."

"Ha!" Zuko said loudly and not very convincingly, his hands clenching on the steering wheel so hard his knuckles creaked. "Ha, that's crazy. Why would she think that? What a crazy, crazy thing for her to think. Ha ha, right?"

Katara's mouth twisted down and she swallowed, her shoulders dropping. "Yeah," she said, quietly, and then again stronger, "Yeah, that's exactly what I said. I'm sorry I even brought it up. Stupid, right? I don't know where she got that. Maybe she was just projecting."

"Yeah, probably," Zuko said, clenching his teeth but trying to smile anyway because God, what kind of idiot would he be if he told Katara she was right when she definitely didn't want that and also when there were two geeky freshmen in the back seat of his car? It wasn't the most romantic of situations to find himself in, and yet, here he was.

"Hey, Zuko, can I go over to Aang's?" Toph asked from the back.

"Do I look like your dad?" he growled, secretly very happy to have a way out of the conversation with Katara. "We're already heading to your house, you want me to just turn around?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to call your parents when you get there so I don't get yelled at by a couple of yuppies because I stole their helpless blind daughter?"

"Ugh," Toph said with more emotion in the single sound than Zuko had ever felt in his entire life. "Yeah, sure, whatever. I'll call them."

"Aang," Katara said, turning around, "you want Toph to come over?"

"Yeah, of course," Aang said, though Zuko privately thought that he couldn't really say anything else with Toph sitting two feet away from him ready to take him out at the knees if he said no. But it was cute that Katara cared enough to ask him.

"Okay," Katara said, sliding back into the front seat, her elbow brushing against Zuko's as she did and making his blood burn. "Sorry, Zuko, I know you're already halfway there."

"It's good," Zuko said, taking a turn onto a perpendicular street that would take him away from Toph's house. "I'm not going to complain about having to drive around town less. Besides, it's good for her to have friends who aren't me. When I graduate, you know, I want her to have someone around."

Katara grinned. "Well, I'm glad we could set our children up on a playdate."

Zuko snorted. "I'm not her dad," he repeated.

"Aren't you?"

He made a face. "Come on, Katara, I'm not old enough for this."

"Neither am I," she said primly, "and yet here I am."

He glanced at her, taking his eyes off the road for just a little too long. She was smiling, a pretty, bright smile with more than a little mischief in it, and he couldn't help but smile back. His probably wasn't as pretty as hers, though. He had the sudden urge to reach out and hold her hand, the one resting in her lap with its round fingers and lavender polish, and even went so far as to take one hand off the wheel before he caught himself.

Turning the motion into a push to get his hair out of his eyes, Zuko tried to crush his smile, but it didn't work.

"You're gonna be a great mom someday," he said, with enough mockery and growl to make it not a compliment.

"Yeah, well," she said, her head turning towards the window so all he saw out of his peripheral vision was hair. "First I have to find some guy who isn't an asshole, you know? I've been told my taste in men is, um ... very bad."

Zuko's stomach twisted.

Then he remembered. "Oh, you mean because of the Jet thing? Yeah, how did that even ... happen?"

Katara shrugged. "He was charming. And I was stupid. Isn't that how most shitty boyfriends happen? Shitty girlfriends too, maybe, I don't know."

"I'm just saying, you should have probably seen that whole stabbing thing coming." He liked to bring it up sometimes just to make her squirm, and because when anger flashed in her bright eyes, it did fun things to his stomach, but this time he was doing it out of spite. Partly because he'd had to casually dodge a knife coming his way outside his high school one afternoon and it hadn't been the  _ best _ day of his life ... or the worst.

Just as he'd thought, she whipped around, hair fanning out, eyes filled with anger, and his stomach flipped over in a pleasant kind of way.

Ooops. He wasn't supposed to be encouraging himself. Goddamnit.

"Oh, like you have a leg to stand on," Katara snapped. "Your taste isn't exactly great. Pretty but ... you know, awful."

"Guess you didn't like Mai then," Zuko muttered. "I'll file that away to remember later."

"I'm sorry that your type is hot but bitchy," Katara growled.

"Alright," Zuko said as they crossed from a middle class neighborhood into Aurora Hills. "You're right, but don't rub it in."

He wondered if she knew and was including herself in the statement, or if it was just a really great coincidence. It was difficult to tell with Katara since she was so prone to flying off the handle at a moments notice.

"Could you two stop fighting up there?" Toph said, and when Zuko glanced in the rearview mirror, he saw both her and Aang leaning in towards the gap in the seats. Toph looked annoyed and Aang's eyes were wide and concerned.

"What, are we being too loud for you two?" Zuko said wryly.

"No, you're just annoying as all shit," Toph said. "I'm trying to have a conversation here and I don't need you two idiots arguing about who has worse romantic taste to ruin it, okay? Besides, the answers obvious. You both have terrible taste. I can't believe I have to tell you this."

"You didn't even know my ex," Katara said.

"That's not what I'm basing this on," Toph said, grinning.

Katara flushed and then tried to hide it behind her hands. Zuko, on the other hand, just settled into silence, pursing his lips and trying to focus on the road.

That left Aang and Toph free to keep talking about a bunch of fourteen-year-olds that Zuko didn't know, and also some science project. He tuned them out as soon as they started up again, trying to figure out how to apologize to Katara without making things even worse. God, why was he like this? Why couldn't he have a normal conversation with her?

"Sorry," he said finally.

"Yeah, I'm sorry too." She made a face. "I got a little carried away. I don't ... necessarily like thinking about Jet."

"I get that," Zuko said. "I shouldn't have teased."

He could hear the smile in her voice even with her head turned away from him. "All you do it tease."

He couldn't deny that.

Thankfully, right then they pulled up to Katara's house right then and Zuko parked at the curb. "All right, the school bus is officially here," he said, turning around to glance in the back. "You ungrateful pricks."

"Thanks, man," Toph said, feeling around for a minute before finding his shoulder and patting it. Aang was already out of the car, walking around to the other side to get Toph's door for her — a perfect gentleman in the making, Zuko thought, probably Katara's influence. More quietly, Toph said, "You're so stupid."

"Thanks, Toph, you really know how to warm a guy's heart," Zuko said, glancing at Katara and enjoying the look of affectionate exhaustion she gave Toph.

Katara put a hand on the door handle. "You wanna come in? Everyone else is."

"Oh." Panic went through Zuko like a spear. "Oh, no, um, that's fine, I'm sure —”

"He'd love to," Toph said. "Come on, Zuko, let's be polite. You wouldn't want to be impolite, would you?"

"Toph, you little shit," he muttered, but she just grinned.

"Good." It was like Katara could just pretend not to hear certain things that she didn't want to. "I'm sure Iroh won't mind. I mean, you're right down the street, right?"

"Right," Zuko said faintly.

And that was how he found himself being propelled into the house with Toph in front of him and Katara behind as though he was being marched to his death.

He'd been in the house before, of course, but he was still nervous to be there during the daylight, or whatever remained of it before the early nightfall set in. Besides that, now he was invited instead of just turning up, or joining a party. This felt more important somehow, though how, he wouldn't have been able to say.

The other difference, he found immediately, was that Katara's grandmother was home.

She came out of the small, neat living room, her eyes bright and sharp in the wrinkles of her face. "Hello, Aang," she said, since he was in the door first. "How was school?"

"It was fine, Mrs. Kanna," Aang said, putting his hands behind his back like an elementary school kid forced to recite poetry. "This is Toph. She's a friend of mine."

"Hello, Toph," Mrs. Kanna said, her sharp blue eyes picking out Toph's white cane and her somewhat distant gaze. "It's very nice to meet you."

"Yeah, um," Toph said, clearly trying her hardest not to be ... well, Toph. "It's very nice to meet you too, uh,  Mrs. Kanna."

"Can I bring her up to your room, Katara?" Aang said, eyes wide.

"Yeah, sure," Katara said, with that same tired affection, like she really was Aang's mom. "Just don't break anything. And leave the door open."

Aang looked shocked and then he glanced at Toph, blushed, and nodded. The two of them took off up the stairs, Aang's hand on Toph's arm to help her.

"Good to see him with friends his own age," Mrs. Kanna said in  _ exactly _ the same tone of voice Katara had. "I worry about that boy sometimes. He's so sweet."

"You don't have to worry about Toph," Zuko muttered. "You know. With him."

"What?"

"The door thing," Zuko said. "You ... you know, you don't have to worry about that."

"What?" Katara said again, confused.

"Nevermind." Zuko gave up, not wanting to explain things that were Toph's business. 

"And who," said Katara's grandmother, her blue eyes narrowing in on Zuko like lasers, "is this young man?"

"Gran-Gran, this is Zuko." Katara's fingers briefly brushed Zuko's elbow, pushing him forward before dropping away. "He's my friend. He ... make sure I don't get myself into too much trouble at school."

"Well, that's very nice of him," Mrs. Kanna said, but her eyes were still sharp, her mouth still somewhat pursed, and she hadn't missed that little touch. She also hadn't missed the rips in his jeans and the ratty edges of his flannel. He wondered what shirt he had on today, hoping it wasn't anything too bad, or at least that it wasn't visible, but there was no hiding the boots and the studs and patches on his jacket and every other part of his appearance that wasn't something a grandmother would want her granddaughter bringing home.

But then, Mrs. Kanna looked up at him, meeting his gaze without flinching at his scar, and smiled. "It's very good to meet you too, Zuko," she said, and offered him a hand to shake.

That part was unexpected, but he took the hand and shook it gently.

"It's good to meet you too," he said. "Thank you for having Toph over as well, since she's not great at pleasantries. You have a beautiful home."

Mrs. Kanna cocked her head to one side. "Is she your ... sister?"

The hesitation made sense, since he and Toph looked nothing alike — Zuko's face and features were much longer, his cheekbones more narrow, and his eyes a different color. He shook his head, letting go of Mrs. Kanna's bird-light hand. "No, ma'am. She's just a friend, but I keep an eye on her."

"She's his Aang," Katara said, and it was true in most ways, but not all. Zuko didn't bother to say that though.

"I see," Mrs. Kanna said, then took Katara's arm. "I'm sorry to pull you away, dear, but you've got a phone call."

Katara's brow furrowed and she turned into the living room where the phone sat off the hook, balanced in an arch on the side table. She glanced at Zuko, who shrugged, and said, "Sorry, it'll just be a moment."

She walked over and picked up the phone, put it to her ear, and said, "Hello? This is Katara."

And then, in a way he'd almost never seen before, pure joy spread across her round face, lighting her eyes like the moon, and making her skin practically glow. "Dad!" she said, smiling. "Hi, how are you? Where are you? Are you taking care of yourself? Eating? Please tell me you're cooking for yourself and not just eating that fast food garbage, you know it's bad for you."

Zuko grinned. "She even mothers her own parents, huh?" he said.

Mrs. Kanna laughed gently. "It's her way," she said, watching Katara with the same intensity she'd examined Zuko. "I'm sure you know that."

"I do."

She looked back at Zuko, still with those sharp eyes. "So, you must be Katara's 'not my boyfriend'."

That basically sent Zuko into an emotional tailspin. He swallowed hard and replied, "Uh ... what?"

"Oh, don't look so worried, young man," Mrs. Kanna said. "A grandmother needs to ask searching questions, you understand. Katara set me straight, don't worry."

"Ah," said Zuko, looking at the toes of his books. "Her 'not my boyfriend', huh?"

"No, Dad," Katara was saying on the phone, winding the coiled cord around her hand. "I don't have a date to the winter formal. I'll probably just make Aang come with me. Sokka? Ew, I don't know, probably. He has a girlfriend now, did I tell you that? Yeah, as of today. No, not like that. No, Dad, don't worry, she could murder him if she wanted to, I think it'll be fine."

"Unless," Mrs. Kanna said, still too interested for Zuko's liking. "You're rather ...  _ not _ be her 'not my boyfriend.'"

Zuko tried to stop himself from blushing but it didn't work, and definitely ruined his image. "I'm not trying to take advantage of your granddaughter, Mrs. Kanna," he said. "I know I don't exactly look like the kind of person you want to bring home to meet your family, but I care about her very much and I would never, ever do anything to hurt her, I swear to you."

"I believe you," Mrs. Kanna said gently. "The last boy she brought home was charming and polite and clever, and I'm sure you know what became of him. What you look like is of very little concern to me. Besides, Katara isn't one of those delicate girls who won't be able to take care of herself. I trust her."

"That's ... very modern of you, ma'am," Zuko said and Mrs. Kanna just grinned.

"Hey, Zuko," Katara said, putting her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "Is Mr. Iroh going to worry about you? If not, do you want to stay for dinner?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, the words out of his mouth before he could really think about them. "Iroh won't care."

"Iroh?" said Mrs. Kanna as Katara nodded and turned back to the phone. "Who lives down the street?"

"He's my uncle," Zuko said. "I'm staying with him for  a while."

Mrs. Kanna nodded appreciatively. "Well, if an endorsement means anything, if you're still worried that I won't find you acceptable for my granddaughter, being related to Iroh certainly helps. He's a very important part of this community, you know. And he's the only one around here who gives me a run for my money at senior board game night. A good man, your uncle."

"Yes, ma'am," Zuko said, certain on this point in a way he hadn't been for a long time. "He is."

"Good boy," Mrs. Kanna said, patting his arm. "Looks like you've got some muscles on you. Good. Come with me, you can peel carrots."

With one last look at Katara, Zuko followed her grandmother into the kitchen.

Maybe there was some hope after all. At least he had an old lady on his side.


	17. Don't You Want Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's overplayed, but Human League has been on my chapter title list since I started this.

Katara knocked on Zuko's window around nine-thirty and scared the ever living shit out of him.

"Jesus, Katara," he said, pushing the window open and leaning out, not quite letting her in yet because his heart was hammering too hard. "What's wrong with you? You know you can just come in the front door, right? Iroh will let you in, he loves you."

"Yeah, I get that," Katara said, physically shoving Zuko aside so she could get in, and glaring when he didn't move fast enough, "but I don't want him to know I'm here because he might make me leave eventually."

"You're not planning on leaving?" Zuko said, his stomach flipping immediately into panic mode at the implications of what she'd said. "What are you going to do, just sleep on my floor?"

"Maybe," Katara said, swinging her legs into the room. She was wearing a skirt and Zuko kept his eyes on the window so he didn't give himself the chance to oggle the amount of leg she was flashing. "I just can't be in my house right now."

"What's wrong?"

She waved a hand, pushing her loose hair off her shoulder. "The party's just ... louder than usual. And you know, Sokka's room is next to mine and he and Suki keep sneaking off ..."

"You're here," Zuko said, suddenly realizing exactly what was going on and trying his best not to laugh in Katara's face, "because you don't want to listen to your brother fuck your friend through your bedroom wall."

"Eeew, Zuko, why do you have to do that?" Katara pulled her skirt down to the tops of her long socks and stepped into his bedroom. She pushed past him to sit down on the bed, kicking her shoes off and drawing her knees up under her skirt. Zuko closed the window to keep out the chill, wondering how Katara was managing with bare legs from the knee up.

"What do I do?" he asked, glancing out into the night as he shut out the last lingering noise from the party down the street which he couldn't truly hear, but which he could feel like an echo in his bones.

"You always have to make it grody," she said and when he turned, he found her tucked up at the corner of his bed with her hands pulled into her sweater. "I don't want to think ... I don't think they're ... just like ... no, right?"

"Are you trying to ask me if they're not getting it on?" Zuko asked, raising an eyebrow. "You know it won't hurt you if you say it."

Katara glared. "Yes it will."

"Drama queen." Zuko rolled his eyes and sat down on the end of the bed, his legs taking up way more room than Katara's did. "So you snuck out of your house and in through my window so that you could avoid listening to your brother getting some. Now, that end part I respect, I understand not wanting to know about that. But here's the thing: now that you're here, what's your plan?"

She made a face and muttered something.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I don't have a plan, okay?" She pushed her hair out of her face again. It wasn't styled in the way it was at school so he had to assume she'd been getting ready for bed before Suki and Sokka got moving on whatever it is they were doing. That probably also explained why she didn't have on a jacket or tights or anything she would have if she'd really thought about going out in the cold and light snowfall to climb a tree.

"You can't live here," Zuko said, though he certainly wasn't going to kick her out. If she wanted to sleep here, she was welcome, though he'd probably be so nervous his brain would explode.

"I'm just going to wait them out. It might be a little while." She looked him over. "Were you um ... going to bed?"

"No, Katara, it's nine ..." He checked his alarm clock next to the bed, "forty two. I'm not Aang. I don't have a bedtime."

"Oh come on, don't be mean to Aang," Katara said. "He's just a kid, he doesn't deserve that."

"I'm not being mean to him," Zuko said, putting a hand to his chest. "I was fourteen once too." He didn't mention that at fourteen, he also didn't have a bedtime or a curfew, and had gotten hammered in his own living room with his baby sister more than once because what was their father going to do, actually parent them? Unlikely. Besides, he'd had a new giant facial scar and that had been the source of some teenage anxiety, like a much worse version of pubescent acne.

Katara made a face. "Those parties are way less fun when you're not there to suffer with me," she said.

Zuko's stomach performed a perfect clove hitch knot and drop kicked his heart into his throat.

"Oh yeah?" he said, trying not to let his voice get all high and squeaky, even though that was how he felt. "Somehow me making you cry is better?"

She rolled her eyes. "That wasn't your fault. But at least when I get forced to go downstairs, I have someone to be around, you know? Today I had to deal with Suki rubbing it in my face that now she had a date to the dance and I don't, and also, so much worse,  _ that date is my brother _ ."

"Wow, I will never understand girls," Zuko said. "I thought you two were friends."

"We are," Katara said, and her cheeks went pink. "She was doing it to try to get me someone to go with. I think it was her way of helping, but like, honestly, it did  _ not _ work."

"What, Aang hasn't invited you yet?" Zuko said wryly.

Katara fiddled with her hair. "He probably would, but he'd be so uncomfortable. One freshman boy with all those older kids? I don't want to do that to him."

"Also, he might think that it means more than it does, since he's in love with you."

She hit him on the arm, hard, which he deserved. "Would you stop with that?" Katara snapped. "I told you, he's not."

"In his head, you're already married," Zuko said, laughing and rubbing his arm at the same time.

She whacked him again. "Shut up."

"Okay, okay." He settled back against the wall. "So much violence over one little dance, huh?" He paused. "Or was it Suki? Was this another example of Suki being way too nosy for her own good?"

"Yeah," Katara said, leaning back against the wall. "She's got this whole idea of what I should do with my life, which is crazy because Suki isn't exactly one to do what other people tell her in the first place.” She sighed. “I don't know. She was just being a pain." She swallowed, cleared her throat, and without looking at him said, "She thinks I should ask you."

"What, to the dance?" Zuko's brain started screaming ' _ like a date! _ ' but he ignored it because he wasn't going to let hormones get to him, goddamnit. His libedo knew nothing and needed to shut the hell up. So he forced a laugh and said, "She knows what I look like, right? I think taking me to a dance is worse than taking Aang, at least from your perspective."

"I don't think my social standing is anything anymore," Katara said wryly. "But I don't want to drag you to dance with some pathetic girl who can't get a real date, you know?"

Zuko glanced at her, the blush in her cheeks and the way she bit her lip. She was ... worried? God, maybe he was being an idiot. Of course, he’d always thought he was stupid for other reasons — the pounding heart, the sweaty palms, all that stuff — so what had he said wrong? It was definitely something.

Unwilling to continue to play "How has Zuko fucked up this time?" he cracked his knuckles and looked away.

And then, as though his mouth was connected to someone else's brain, he said, "Hey, Katara, you wanna go to the Winter Formal with me?"

Her head whipped around. "What?"

"As friends," he said quickly because even though he  _ absolutely _ wanted to ask her out, doing that in his bedroom with the door closed and no way for her to escape probably wasn't a great choice. "I mean, not like ... you know, we can just go. So you have someone to go with whose head doesn't come up to your chin."

Katara's whole face was bright red and he didn't know why, but every potential reason was incredibly scary.

Then her eyes narrowed. "Are you going to Carrie me or something?"

"What?" Zuko let out a short bark of laughter. "No, I don't wanna get set on fire. Come on, Katara, think logically."

She chewed her lip. "Are you going to dance?"

"What?"

She grinned, sharp and mischievous. " _ Can _ you dance?"

"Of course I can dance," Zuko said, unsure of whether or not he was lying but not liking her implication. "I mean, I'm not Kevin Bacon, but if you're trying to imply that I might leave you as some kind of sad wallflower all night, then no, I'm not going to do that."

"They're going to play music you hate," Katara said, still in that singsong, teasing voice.

He scowled at her. "Look, I didn't have to offer here. You could have gone alone and spent the whole time watching your brother and Suki have eye sex on the dance floor. I'm trying to save you from that pain, but you're being a real jerk about it. What do you want from me here?"

Her face went red again, though this time Zuko had  _ no _ idea why. Despite her coming over tonight, she'd continued to be ... strange around him. Alternately close and touchy-feely as she usually was, and then distant, staying out of reach at all times as though worried he might try something. It was hard to get a read on her. And this wasn't the first time she'd blushed for no reason around him, or gotten uncomfortable.

He wasn't sure he was going to be able to try to figure her out, but he probably should have been trying harder. The problem was he didn't want to dig too deep into whatever emotional state she was going through in case it ruined the very delicate balance of their friendship.

"Yes," Katara said suddenly.

"What?"

"Yes, thank you, I would like to go to the Winter Formal with you." She said it so fast it was all one word and Zuko had to take a minute to work out what she'd said. 

When he got all the words separated, he had to bite his lip to keep from smiling like an idiot. Instad, he managed, "Tight," by way of agreement before his throat closed up.

"You um ..." Katara fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. "You don't need to like ... go all out. Or anything. I mean, if we're going as friends and stuff. I don't really want to have you ... um ... you know, do the ..."

"You mean you don't want the flowers and the limo and the matching tie?" Zuko said. "That's good because I don't have a limo and wearing a sport coat is already going to kill me so you know. Don't expect too much. I'm not a great date."

"I think you're a pretty good date," Katara said, squeaked, and then snapped her mouth shut so hard her teeth clacked.

Zuko's brain scrambled and he had to take a second to pull all the pieces together. "Um, what?"

Wide eyed and red faced, Katara looked away, staring at her socks like they were the most interesting things in the world. She opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "You know," she said finally. "You're always ... I mean, like ..."

He wanted to tell her to spit it out, but that was guaranteed to make her shut up, exactly what he was trying to avoid.

"In my limited experience, you're a pretty good date," Katara said, her voice a little stronger now. "You're always nice to me when we go anywhere at least. I know that's not exactly a date, I know we're not dating and you don't think I'm pretty —”

"What?" Zuko said, unable to keep his mouth shut. "Hold on, what?"

"We're not dating?" Katara said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "Obviously, you  dweeb."

"I know that, shut up," Zuko said. "Don't be such an asshole."

"Alright, look," Katara said, looking up at him fully, her eyes sparkling and her lips twisting as she fought to contain her smile, "I know it's hard for you to tell because you dated Mai for so long, but this isn't dating and you should be aware of that. If it's confusing to you, maybe —”

"Not that, dingus," Zuko growled. "I never said I didn't think you were pretty."

"Oh." Katara's mischief dropped, but not all the way. "I mean, I've seen your type and since I'm not skinny and hot and I don’t look like Siouxie Sioux, I figured it was an easy guess. I'm not a dummy."

"You are a dummy," Zuko grumbled. "Just for that, you're getting the whole stupid flower thing and then limo and the dancing, just because you think I'm only into Mai, which isn't true at all. Don't let people tell you you're not pretty. You are. You're also sweet and tough and smart and a real pain in the ass but still —”

And he would have gone on that way for another while except Katara leaned across the bed and kissed him right on the mouth.

For once in his life, Zuko shut the fuck up.

It was more like a middle school peck than anything else and lasted only a heartbeat before Katara yanked herself away, her hands flying up over her mouth as she stared at him in horror.

"Oh, god," she said. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, it just —”

Zuko put a hand to his mouth, in a daze. The only thought in his head was static and a vague dial tone sound.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so so so sorry." Katara had immediately entered the babbling phase. "I got carried away, you were saying nice things about me and I just ... it seemed like a really good idea at the time but I shouldn't have done it, forget that happened, I'm so sorry."

Zuko looked at his fingers where he'd touched his lips, as though that might give him some clue as to what was going on.

"I just had a stupid impluse and I went for it, God, I'm such an idiot. I'm just going to go, I think that's the best idea. Feel free to never talk to me again, I wouldn't blame you because I'm so incredibly stupid."

"Um, Katara," he managed, though his voice was squeaky and childlike.

"Holy crap, I ruined our whole friendship, oh my God, how could I be so stupid?" Her hands migrated from her mouth to her forehead to her hair. "You probably hate me now for being such an idiot little girl with a stupid crush and now I've ruined  _ everything _ ."

His brain managed to pick "crush" out of the constant stream of words and that seemed like a really good sign.

"And now I'm just going to go away," Katara said, pushing away from the wall to get up.

Zuko reached out, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her back.

It was not a middle school peck.

Katara made a squeaky noise of surprise and then a gasp and then she was pulling him down on top of her, hands twisted in his shirt. He had to shoot out an arm to catch them before he landed on her, and ended up holding her up, her head pressed awkwardly against the wall. But she didn't seem upset, given the way she was kissing him back, her hands tangling in his hair and around his neck.

Zuko's brain, already firmly lost in the clouds of confusion, decided to take a full vacation.

When he next caught up with anything apart from the impulsive need to keep his mouth on hers, he realized he hadn't breathed in a full minute and pulled away, gasping. Katara had migrated down the wall and onto the bed itself, her head on the pillow, hair fanned out around her face like a dark halo. Her eyes were wide and blue as the sky. She too was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling, distracting even under her sweater. 

He tried to think of something to say, couldn't, and kissed her again, hungry and desperate in away he'd never felt before. He hadn't realized it, but her legs had ended up on either side of his, her skirt riding up from her knees to the middle of her thighs, and he put one hand on the outside of her leg to pull her closer, his fingers digging into the skin. She gasped as he did but didn't shove him off; instead, her fingers ran up the back of his neck and into his hair and he shuddered, putting his free hand on the headboard to keep himself stable.

When he pulled away again, now truly out of breath, his brain was starting to come back into focus, but not very much given that he was looking at Katara splayed out on his bed, her cheeks flushed, and that was ... well, it did great things for other parts of him, but not his thought process.

"Um," he said, working his way around to something intelligible. "Apology accepted?"

Katara blinked. She was still running her fingers through his hair, almost thoughtlessly now, and the sensation almost made Zuko dizzy. Still, she looked as confused as he felt, which was good because at least they were in the same boat.

"What," she said, lips parting, "was that?"

"Uh," Zuko said, not sure what she meant. "I'm pretty sure it was making out. I figured you'd know that." Apparently even in this moment of confusion, his brain was resorting to snark. He winced. "Sorry, that um ... I just ..."

Katara pulled away a little so she could push herself up onto her elbows without headbutting him. "I thought ..." she said, and trailed off.

Zuko didn't know what she'd thought so he waited for her to finish instead of trying to guess.

"I thought you didn't ... like me." Katara wouldn't meet his gaze.

"I thought you knew I did," Zuko said, "and didn't like  _ me _ and were trying to let me down easy."

"What?" Her brow furrowed. 

"In my defense, it was a real good theory until about five minutes ago."

Suddenly shy, even though she was still underneath him with her skirt pushed up around her hips, Katara blushed and looked away. "I thought ..."

He was tired of this. With the hand that wasn't holding his weight, he reached out and took Katara's chin in a firm hand, turned her face back to him, and leaned down to kiss her again.

It started off soft now, less stupid teenagers, but within a minute, it had devolved into the same messy desparation. Zuko reveled in the feeling her her hair against his knuckles, her skin and mouth, the heat of her legs against the outside of his thighs. It was intoxicating. But it was also dangerous. Zuko didn't know how far he could push this, how much she'd want to do, and he didn't want to pressure her — that was the last thing he wanted — but also there were a lot of adolescent hormones running through him. He kept forcing himself to pull away. The real problem was that Katara had no such worries and would insist on pulling him back down to her, hands roving up underneath his shirt and onto his stomach and chest in a distracting way.

It was only when he found himself pushing up her sweater that he knew he had to stop.

He pulled back as though burned and Katara sat up. Her eyes were clouded and distant, her mouth still open, the lips overly red. 

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He couldn't look at her, feeling like an idiot. "I'm fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” Her mouth pursed into a little button of discontent.

Zuko put a hand up to his face. He couldn’t tell her that all he wanted to do was push her back onto the bed and shove her skirt up over her hips. For one thing, it wasn’t polite  and for another, making Katara uncomfortable was the last thing he wanted to do. She trusted him to keep her safe, not take advantage of her.

“Hey,” she said gently and reached out to put her hand on his chest. “I’m okay. You’re not going to hurt me, Zuko, I’m a big girl. I’ll tell you if I need you to stop.”

“That’s not —“ He ran a hand through her hair. “No, that is it, I know it is, but it’s not just that.”

“So what is it?” Her mouth quirked into a little half smile. "I think we've established that ... um ..." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and Zuko followed the motion like a starving man watching a steak. "That we ... like each other. Right?"

He rolled his eyes, which at least calmed his libedo a little bit. "Yeah, thanks for putting it in the most kiddie terms possible." 

"Shut up," Katara grumbled, pulling her feet up. "You're so mean."

"Yes, I know." He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I told you that. You  _ know _ that, Katara, and that's why this is stupid. Because I'm not a nice person and you ... you are. You're perfect."

"I'm not perfect," Katara said, wrinkling her nose. "Don't be like that, Zuko, you know better than that. Don't ... don't pretend I'm something I'm not. I  _ like _ you, even if you need to take a chill pill sometimes. And you like me. I know it, no matter how mean you are about it."

"You make it seem so easy."

"It  _ is _ easy," Katara insisted. She reached out and put her hand on Zuko's face. It wasn't a lot of pressure, but it was enough to make him turn towards her, unable to resist. Her eyes were soft and delicate, but her mouth quirked up at one side. "Come on, Zuko, don't tell me you're letting something as stupid as high school politics determine who you're going to date?"

"Oh, we're dating now?" he managed, somewhat strangled because her hand on his face was  _ very _ warm and  _ very _ distracting.

"I mean," Katara said, prim as usual, her mouth pressing into a delicate rosebud, "if you get around to asking me, yes."

"That easy?"

"That easy."

He opened his mouth to say, "Do you want to be my girlfriend?" or maybe "Will you go out with me?" but unfortunately what came out was, "I love you."

Katara's hand dropped from his cheek and her face froze.

So did Zuko's heart.

"Oh, fuck," he said.

When Katara finally spoke, which took thirty whole seconds, her voice had all the warmth of a blizzard. "I'm sorry," she said, blinking too quickly, "What was that?"

"No, god, I'm so sorry." He scooted away on the bed to give her some room because the last thing he wanted at that point was to make her feel trapped. "Ah, no, I spazzed out there, ignore it, ignore all of that, I just ... I was ..."

Katara's face was very pale, her cheeks going ashy with anger. "I can't ... that ... why would you ... ?"

"It was an accident!" Zuko threw out apologizing and decided to get angry, because what other option was there. "I got overexcited, okay? I don't get why you're complaining, honestly, isn't that what girls want?"

"You think girls want unasked for, too-early declarations of love?" Katara snarled. She was on her feet now, suddenly, though Zuko had missed how she got from the bed to the floor. She stood with her feet spread wide as though to balance herself, hands in fists against her legs. Only a minute ago, she'd been splayed out underneath him, her hair in his hands, but now she was boiling with anger. "You think," she said, voice trembling, blue eyes crackling with enraged light, " _ that's _ what girls want? No wonder you're such a fuck up when it comes to dating."

"Oh,  _ I'm _ the fuck up?" Zuko leapt off the bed, folding his arms across his chest almost as protection. Some little part of his brain was screaming at him that this wasn't the way to deal with this right now, that he needed to be  _ better _ , but he was already too mad and embarrassed to think straight. "When it was your jerkoff boyfriend who tried to  _ stab _ me? When it's  _ you _ who couldn't manage to even have a friend, much less a boyfriend, without protection? Come on, Katara, you can't really think —”

"Shut up!" Katara yelled, her voice high and loud, so loud it make his ears ache. "Shut up, shut up,  _ shut up _ ! Of course you ruined this! Of course you did, because you ruin everything!  _ Everything! _ "

"Oh,  _ I _ ruin it?" Zuko shot back. "Not you? You're the expert in ruining things, princess. That's what people like you do, they ruin stuff for shitheads like me, and God, here I was thinking maybe you were different."

There were three hard knocks on the bedroom door and they both froze. In that second, Zuko saw the tears glimmering in Katara's eyes, and horror twisted in the pit of his stomach.

And then the door opened just a little and Iroh said, "Nephew?" And then, with more confusion, "Katara, is that you? I didn't hear you come in."

"I was just leaving," Katara said, her eyes on Zuko still as the first tear burbled down her cheek. Her voice was choked. "Sorry, Mr. Iroh, but I have to get home."

"Katara," Zuko said, "I'm —”

But she was moving to grab her shoes, turning her back to him as the tears spilled down her face. He caught only a slice of her face in profile, blue eyes liquid and wet, mouth set in a hard line, before she ducked around Iroh and was off down the stairs, her feet thudding on the stairs.

Zuko turned around and kicked the footboard of his bed, which did nothing but hurt his toes.

Iroh was staring after Katara even after the door banged open and then closed again. Only then did he turn back to Zuko, his eyes sharp. "I have many questions, Zuko," he said, and though his voice was gentle, there was some steel in it. "Firstly, why is Katara in your room?"

Unwilling to act like an adult in this conversation, Zuko hurled himself onto his bed, face down, and put a pillow over his head.

After a moment, Iroh said, "She came in the window again, didn't she." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Zuko grumbled into his mattress, though loudly enough that Iroh would still hear. He didn't even bother to ask how Iroh knew. It just made sense that he would, honestly.

"You two had a fight?"

"Obviously."

"What happened?" Iroh said softly.

Taking the pillow with him, Zuko rolled out of bed and onto the floor, bumping his elbows as he fell. There was a thud as he hit, but when he rolled over, Iroh was still standing above him like nothing had happened. It had always been so hard for Zuko to lie to Iroh and now was no different, with those kind, amber eyes looking down at him.

"I kissed her," Zuko said.

"And she didn't like it?" One of Iroh's gray eyebrows quirked up. "That is interesting. I had thought that Katara was very much enamored of you, though I suppose not as much as you are of her."

"No, she was fine with that part," Zuko said, embarrassed. "I, uh ... I told her I loved her."

"Oh. Oh no, Zuko." Iroh sighed. "This poor girl. You scared her off."

"Yup," Zuko said. "Because I'm an idiot."

Iroh leaned down and patted Zuko's knee. "Yes, nephew," he said very softly. "Yes, you are."

Zuko put the pillow back over his face and screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The temporary title of this chapter was "THE GOOD PART".
> 
> It is also the bad part and I'm sorry about that.
> 
> (Hey, shameless plug, check out my tumblr at grapefruittwostep if you wanna see more of what I've been doing, y'all!)


	18. Love Stinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this written for like a week but I didn't edit it because I had a grown-up week at work and that took basically all my energy, so sorry about that. Don't worry, I've found time to post this on my one day off between replaying Mass Effect: Andromeda and a marathon DnD session where I'll get to aggressively flirt with my ex. Clearly, I am a positive role model about how to correctly organize my priorities.

 "All right, Debby Downer," Suki said as she plopped herself onto the bench seat across from Katara in the cafeteria and reached across to take a fry off of Katara's tray. "What's your fucking problem?"

Katara groaned and didn't pick her head up from the table where it had been resting for the last ten minutes.

"Look, are you going to eat lunch or are you going to whine?" Suki took another fry. "Just tell me what's wrong."

Annoyed, Katara stuck her hand out, glaring at Suki over it. "Ten dollars," she said.

Suki blinked. "What?"

Katara waved her fingers. "You owe me ten dollars," she enunciated. "Pay up."

Suki's hand snaked out for another fry and Katara whacked it. 

"Are you mental?" Suki snapped, withdrawing her hand quickly. "Why the hell would I give you ten dollars? You're the one who was supposed to pay me if ... if ..." There was a long pause and Katara looked up at Suki's face, the dramatic circle of her mouth. She seemed frozen and then her eyes glittered and her mouth pursed and she said, very quiet for once, "Not even."

"Even," Katara said, little more than a growl. "Now pay me."

That seemed to be the end of the quiet. Suki's mouth split open like a Halloween pumpkin. "I told you!" she screeched. "I told you, oh  _ man _ , I was so right!"

"Suki, stop it," Katara said, not in the mood to be teased right now. She'd had a whole weekend to process, and things still hadn't worked themselves out. Her brain hurt. Her stomach was still a mass of butterflies and anger. She hadn't slept very much and consequently looked like a swamp monster who had decided to spend a day at the local high school instead of her normal, well put together self. She'd spent her first couple of hours darting nervously from class to class, checking every hallway she entered to first make sure Zuko wasn't in it.

She didn't know how to feel.

It took a minute, but Suki finally seemed to figure out that something wasn't right. The victorious grin slid from her face and she examined Katara more closely now, her eyes narrowed.

"Okay," she said finally when it became clear that Katara wasn't going to open up of her own volition. "What happened? Was he not into it? No, that seems unlikely. Were  _ you _ not into it? No, that would be impossible, you want him to —”

"It was fine," Katara said, cutting Suki off before some graphic description. "He was ... it was ...  _ that _ part was fine."

"That part?" Suki's eyebrows rose until they nearly disappeared into her bangs. "Katara, did something else happen?"

"I didn't sleep with him, if that's what you're implying," Katara grumbled, knowing she was blushing and unable to stop it from happening. "It didn't ... go that far or anything. Come on, Suki, can you not think about that for one second?"

"I'm checking." Suki still seemed more serious than she should be and Katara was suddenly touched, despite her anger. "I want to make sure you're good."

"I'm fine," Katara said again, even though she wasn't.

"Okay, okay." Suki held her hands up in defeat. "Okay, so you kissed?"

"Yes," Katara grumbled.

"And was it good? Is he a good kisser? I bet he is."

More blood rushed to Katara's face, making her feel over-warm in her sweater. "Yes, jeez Suki, calm down. If you want to know so bad, maybe you should be the one kissing him."

"I don't wanna do that," Suki said. "He's not my type. Too skinny."

Katara was just thankful that she didn't bring up Sokka or anything about him — it was hard enough now that the two of them were official, she didn't want any of the details.

But Suki's gray eyes were still fixed on Katara, unblinking and full of knowledge that they shouldn't have. "All right," she said, seeming to carry on the conversation all by herself without any need for Katara to contribute, "so he's a good kisser, you were both into it, you didn't bump uglies ... what went wrong?"

"He told me he loved me," Katara said and dropped her head back down onto the table with a thunk.

Suki was, for once, quiet for a long moment. The directionless noise of the cafeteria bounced around them, the sheer volume enough to make Katara's already aching head hurt more. Her stomach started churning again, rebelling against her and making today's lunch of greasy meatloaf hard to keep down. She was so  _ angry _ with him, so hurt that he'd just thrown that at her without thinking of how it would sound. And then that he'd defended it ... she knew, just  _ knew _ he'd regretted doing it, that he'd been defensive, and that dealing with that by getting mad was exactly what she should have expected of him, but that didn't make her less upset.

"Wow," Suki said finally. "What a goddamn idiot."

Katara's stomach calmed slightly, glad at least that Suki agreed with her. She wouldn't have known what to do if Suki got mad at her too.

"That boy," Suki continued, shaking her head. "What a dumbass. Did you tell him he was being stupid?"

"We ... kind of got in a fight about it."

Suki's eyes narrowed just a little. "What kind of fight?"

"The ... screaming, never speak to me again kind?" Katara said carefully.

"Woooof." Suki's shoulders drooped like she'd deflated. "That's hardcore, Katara, was that the kind of fight you  _ wanted _ to have about it?"

Groaning, Katara put her hands over her face as though that would help. "I don't know," she said, her voice just on the sane edge of a wail of pain. "I don't know what I wanted. I don't know what  _ he _ wanted either, but I'm just so goddamn angry with him! Who does that, Suki? Who confesses love to someone for a first kiss?"

"I don't know, kiddo," Suki said, sounding much more supportive and understanding than Katara was used to. When she peered through her fingers, Suki's face was soft, her eyes compassionate. "Zuko's kind of a hard nut to crack," she continued, putting her chin in the palm of her hand. "Maybe he's one of those people that when you do manage to get him to open up, everything just kind of pours out." She paused. "I don't know, though, it kind of seems like he's always told you a lot, now that I think about it. He's not great with using his words or anything, I've seen enough to know that, and yeah, he's kind of a dingus when it comes to girls in general, but maybe ... I don't know, maybe he just kind of lets his freak flag fly?"

"That doesn't necessarily make me feel better," Katara grumbled.

"Look, I get it," Suki said, reaching across the table and pulling Katara's hands away from her face. "If a boy told me he loved me on the first date, I'd freak out too. I want you to know that I am fully on your side about this one. Hell, if Sokka did that  _ today _ that would be ... a fucking heinous move, you know? I'd dump his ass in a second."

"All right," Katara said nervously, though it did make her feel a little bit better to be told she wasn't overreacting.

"But," Suki continued, wrapping her hands around Katara's on the plastic tabletop, her hockey calouses rubbing against Katara's knuckles, "I also would understand that maybe it was a stupid move, not a malicious one."

"I don't ... really think it was malicious," said Katara, who thought that a little bit.

Suki raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe a little," Katara said. "Maybe he was trying to get to me, but this is Zuko we're talking about. He does some messed up shit."

"Not to you," Suki said, her voice still gentle.

"What do you mean?"

"Sure, Zuko can be a waistoid fuckup with violent tendancies," Suki said, waving one hand as though that didn't matter. "But he's never like that to you. With you, he's just an idiot who stumbles over his words and can't figure out how to get you to like him back. He probably got so excited that it was working for once that he just messed it up immediately."

Katara made a face. It did seem right, but ...

"I still don't wanna deal with him right now," she said.

"Not saying you have to. You avoid that fuckass as long as you want to." Suki nodded sagely. "Look, if he's gonna pull shit like that, he's gotta face the consequences. Even if he didn't mean to freak you out, he did it."

Katara nodded slowly.

"Give it some time," Suki said just as the bell rang. "Let things sit for a little while, see how you feel in a couple of days. No big."

It was the best advice Suki had ever given and Katara, gathering up her tray and her book bag, resolved to follow it for as long as necessary.

And maybe longer, if she didn't want to deal with her feelings yet.

* * *

 "You know, that's your third in this period alone," Toph said, swinging her legs so they banged against the wooden seat and jarred Zuko's bones. "Maybe you should chill out a little bit?"

Hands white-knuckled on the lighter, Zuko fumbled with his cigarette and glowered at it as though it was the thing that had done something wrong. "How do you know how many it's been?" he snapped. "It's not like you can observe my smoking habits."

"I can hear you trying to light them, numbnuts," Toph said with equal if not more venom. "Jesus, you're so touchy. What crawled up your ass and died?"

"Nothing," Zuko snarled.

Toph made a face but didn't say anything for a minute as Zuko got the cigarette lit in the semi-darkness underneath the bleachers and sucked in a long breath. She stayed silent as he exhaled, her pale mouth pursed into nearly invisible line.

When he'd finally gotten himself settled, she said, "So. What did you do wrong?"

"Nothing," Zuko snapped.

"Something," Toph said, slowly and now with growing confidence, which Zuko hated to encourage. "Definitely something."

"Stop pretending you know everything," Zuko said, blowing smoke directly at her. "You don't. It's annoying and stupid and you're wrong."

"Ah," Toph said sagely, nodding her head. "So it was something  _ really _ bad."

"Shut your pie hole, Toph."

"Let's see." She raised her fingers, ticking one off for each point she made. "You picked me up from your house today, not Iroh's —”

"How do you even know that?"

"You drove in from the other side of the driveway today, I'm not a fucking moron just because I can't  _ see _ . Now stop interrupting. You were fine last week so this mood is new this weekend. Whatever you did, it was recent. And I haven't heard Katara all day, which means that not only are you not making any effort to find her, she's avoiding you or she would have made it her business to get up in yours. That's her way."

Zuko grunted, because he couldn't deny anything she said and that pissed him off.

"So here's what I'm thinking. You two got in some sort of fight. Because you bicker all the time under normal circumstances, this had to be something major. In fact, it had to be so major that Katara would rather avoid you than speak to you, which honestly I didn't know was possible for her. I thought she just dealt with all her problems by running head first into them until they died or she did."

Another grunt, since again, Toph was right. Which was getting really, really annoying. When did she get good with people? Or maybe she was just good at dealing with Zuko personally and other people were still out of her grasp. Hopefully that was it because socially competent Toph was something Zuko was terrified to see.

"All right," Toph said, nodding. "So you fought. It was big. She doesn't want to talk to you." Toph paused, tapping her chin with one finger, the black nail polish on it barely more than a flake it was so chipped. "You told her you were in love with her, didn't you."

"How in the love of  _ fuck _ did you do that?" Zuko yelped, shocked and horrified all at once, and also a little bit impressed. "Are you some kind of telepath and you didn't fucking tell me?"

"No, you dingdong," Toph said, "I'm just smarter than you are. Which isn't hard."

"Asshole."

"Look, I'm not going around telling girls I’m in love with them for no reason," Toph said, shrugging. "I'm smart enough to not say anything to girls in general. Check and mate."

Zuko sighed and put his head in his hand. "Okay. Okay, so you're right."

"Did you at least manage to plow her first?"

" _ Jesus Christ, Toph. _ "

"What?" She shrugged. "It's an honest question here. You'd think you'd at least get on it before fucking it up. That's what I would do if I was planning on telling some hot girl that I loved her and ruining everything."

"You know you're insufferable, right?"

Toph grinned, showing more teeth than was strictly necessary. "Yeah, it's been mentioned."

Zuko sighed. The cigarette was already low enough that his fingers were in danger of being burned, so he dropped it and scraped it out with the thick sole of his boot. "Look," he said quietly. "I know I fucked up, okay? But how do you come back from that? This isn't really my forte. I'm kind of just planning on giving her space. That's something people say, that you have to give them space?"

"Yeah, I guess," Toph said sounding a little dismissive, but that was how she sounded all the time, so it was hard to work out if she thought it was a bad idea or if she just didn't care that much.

"Well, well, well," said a loud voice from outside the bleachers and they both turned. "If it isn't the high school dregs again. You two staying warm?"

"Hi, Azula, you crazy bitch," Toph said, smiling and waving in Azula's general direction. "Did you come to threaten us with your flying monkeys again? It won't work, you know, I already have the ruby slippers."

Azula sashayed over to them, waving one hand to clear away Zuko's everpresent cloud of smoke. Behind her were Mai and Ty Lee, the former looking sullen, the latter nervous. Zuko tried not to look at Mai — he still hadn't spoken to her much since epically dumping her in the most dramatic fashion possible. Instead, he focused on Azula, who was grinning, a similar look to Toph but much, much more concerning.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"She wants you," Toph said, on a roll now, leaning forward with her cane out, "and your little dog too."

"Are you the terrier in this situation, Bei Fong?" Azula asked.

"No, you oversprayed dink," Toph shot back, "I'm the one with no heart and an axe. Get ready to melt."

"Okay, okay," Zuko said, holding up his hands, horrified that he had to make peace between these two snotty morons who could kill him. "Enough. Azula, what are you doing here? Why are you speaking to me? I thought I wasn't worth your time."

"You're always worth my time," Azula said, false hurt in her face but not in her voice. She put one hand to her chest to sell the bit, but Zuko still didn't believe it. "Please, Zuzu, it's like you think we're not even family any more. I care about you. You're my brother. Can't I check on you in your time of need?"

Zuko's blood ran cold. How did she know? How did she always know when something had gone wrong for him? Was it some kind of horrible superpower? Did a big light go up in the sky to summon her when he felt like crap? Amazing.

But he couldn't acknowledge that anything was wrong or she'd see his weakness and pounce on it. Pouncing had to be avoided at all costs. When he was younger, it was fine and he could write her off, but now she was getting too good at this, becoming too much like their father with his mind games. Everyone had to survive somehow, he knew that, but he wished Azula would survive by being her own person instead of a little daddy clone.

Also he really didn't need another father in his life, since his own sucked so much.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said and pulled out a fourth cigarette.

"Mai," Azula said.

"That chubby waste of space dumped him," Mai said blandly, as though she didn't even care. "Or something like that, I guess. It's not really like I care what she does or doesn't do to him, but it's kind of nice to see him miserable when he made such bad choices."

"There you have it," Azula said like she was wrapping up a class presentation. "Got dumped. I want to be here for you, Zuko. That's what sisters do."

"He didn't get dumped," Toph said, apparently unable to contain herself anymore. "And it's none of your fucking business."

"I'm sorry, did I speak to you?" Azula said.

"I'm sorry, do I care?"

"Azula," Ty Lee said quietly behind her, "come on."

Zuko gave Ty Lee brownie points for trying and saw Toph toss her a thumbs up which made Ty Lee look even  _ more _ nervous if that was possible, but it had very little effect on Azula's roll. Though at least it did seem to turn it back in Zuko's direction. At least if this stayed mostly between him and Azula, it was unlikely that it would come to blows. Toph, however, would have physically fought Azula, and Zuko couldn't decide which victor would be worse in that situation.

Mai was staring at him. He could feel her pale eyes on his left cheekbone, hard and sharp and hurt. Was she still mad about the dumping? Why? It wasn't like she hadn't done it to him a million times.

"Anyway, whatever," Azula said, tossing her hair. "Daddy says you can come home now. He's forgiven you."

"He broke two of my ribs!" Zuko snapped. "I think I'm good."

"Don't exaggerated," Azula said through gritted teeth, her eyes flashing to Mai and then Ty Lee. "And don't talk about family business outside of us. It's not the way things are done."

"Maybe things are done wrong." Zuko folded his arms and watched Azula with hard eyes. Despite his outward calm, inside he was a mess. His stomach roiled and his heart slammed against his ribs. Standing up to Azula wasn't exactly like standing up to their father, but it had a kind of stink of that, the same fear of reprisal. Coupled with his other worries of the day and it was a miracle he didn't just stick the rest of the pack of cigarettes in his mouth all at once and light them up like a firework.

Azula stared down at him, her eyes bright. There was anger there, and fear, and a little bit of hurt but that was covered too quickly for Zuko to linger on it. 

"Fine," she said suddenly, snapping out of her stillness with the explosiveness of rage barely contained. "Fine, Zuko. You've made your bed. Now lie in it."

"Thanks, kiddo!" he yelled, leaning forward to keep his eye on her as she turned and stalked off. "Glad we had this little talk!"

Mai followed, keeping up with Azula, but Ty Lee paused, her eyes flicking from Zuko to Toph to Azula. "I'm really ... she's just so ..." Ty Lee tried, and Zuko appreciated her for giving it her best shot even if she wasn't getting anywhere. She pursed bright pink lips together. "She loves you, you know? She's your sister."

"Thanks, Ty Lee," Zuko said, more tired than angry now, as though all the emotion had drained out of him. "It's fine. Really."

Ty Lee wavered, her heels off the ground but toes still firmly planted. "We miss you," she said.

He managed to smile at her, as best he could — it probably looked horrifying rather than consoling. "Sorry. I know. I miss you too." He did, though not all the time, and not for the right reasons. He missed the stability of being with them, being around them. It was safe there. Well, it wasn't, but it didn't directly challenge his father or his sister, so it was safe in a hiding sense of the word. The way he was now, staying at Iroh's, dumping Mai, avoiding Azula, and hanging out with kids from the wrong part of town? Not safe. Not hidden.

Ty Lee offered a tentative smile and then ran to catch up with Azula.

There was a long moment of silence under the bleachers as Toph rubbed her hands together to get rid of a chill, though Zuko didn't know if it was real or imagined.

"So," she said finally. "That went well."

"Shut up, Toph," Zuko said tiredly and dropped his burned down cigarette on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's still a good chunk of story to go, guys, so buckle up, I guess? Get ready for some bullshit.
> 
> In answer to a question I got asked about this, yes, I'm going to keep writing Toph as generally queer until I die. It's not really specific (I've alternately written her as lesbian, bisexual, genderqueer, aromantic, non-binary, asexual, and GNC so I guess I'm not sure either) but neither am I as a person and again, Toph is basically the character I put the most of myself into so you're going to have to suffer through that. Thank you.


	19. Alone

From his seat hunched in his car, Zuko could see Katara walking across the parking lot with her book bag over her shoulder. She was with Suki, who seemed to be talking at her usual ferocious pace. Aang trailed a step or two behind them, his expression full of deep and genuine concern, which actually hurt Zuko's soul more than anything else that had happened. He should be there. Helping. Making Katara feel better. But how could he make her feel better if he was the one who had messed up in the first place?

He groaned and let his head drop back to bop lightly against the seat. Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

Katara wove out of sight, past his car, and Zuko tried to convince himself to sit up again, but it was too much work. Why would he try to move when he could just bask in how much of a fuckup he was? It was easier to give up. Easier to just go back to knowing that he was pretty much the worst person ever born and maybe just feel sorry for himself for a while longer. Like, maybe for eternity. That was long enough. It had already been a week of avoiding Katara — forever wasn't that much longer than a week, right?

So instead of moving, he just sat there.

Out the passenger window, he saw Toph approaching slowly, going from car to car, pausing briefly at each. That was enough for him to try to scramble into a sitting position because if he let Toph stand around out there trying to find him for too long, she'd get mad. And while he was fine to sit in self pity, that was a lot harder to do if she broke his leg.

But before he could lean across and crank the window down to yell at her, Suki — now alone — came out from between two cars and intercepted Toph's path. She said something — Zuko wasn't near enough to hear the conversation — and Toph paused, her eyebrows furrowed, round, pale face creasing in amusement and concentration. She cocked her head to the side as Suki continued to talk. Whatever they were saying, Toph was interested enough to pause and care about it, which meant it was something Zuko wasn't going to like.

Suki said something and shrugged, and Toph, grinning, nodded.

That wasn't good at all.

When Suki started patting her pockets, though, Toph started laughing and waved her hand in front of her face. Suki looked ... well, Zuko had never really seen embarrassment on her face, but if he did, he assumed it would look something like the emotion that flashed across it now and was gone immediately. Instead, she said something in a monotone, to which Toph nodded a lot, and then Suki held her hand up to her ear, thumb and pinky extended. Her mouth moved and between the gesture and the movement, Zuko knew it was, " _ Call me _ ."

And then a second later, Toph was turning and coming straight towards the car, not worried any more, her lips moving as she passed each one and resting a hand on its hood. Counting.

Well, Suki had at least had the decency to tell Toph where he was parked.

"Hey, Toph!" he yelled out the window anyway. "Over here."

Toph sped up, heading towards his voice now instead of going by the count. She reached the passenger seat, found the door handle, and opened it. "You could have waited for me, asshole," she said, glaring around at him, the interior of the car, and generally anything that entered her field of influence. "Now I have to tap my way over here like a jerk, while you're all cozy."

"I'm not cozy," Zuko grumbled. "I'm feeling sorry for myself."

"Big deal." Toph waved a hand. "You're always feeling sorry for yourself. What makes this any different than a usual Tuesday?"

He didn't say anything. 

"Ugh." Toph slammed the passenger door closed, harder than Zuko would have liked, and folded her arms. "Just drive, you lovesick dickweed. I'm so tired of your shit."

"You know," Zuko said. "Some friends are supportive."

"I've been supportive," Toph said, which was blatantly false. "It's not my fault you don't want support. You want to wallow."

"She won't talk to me," Zuko complained, though it came out of him in an embarrassing whine rather than a reasonable, adult kind of sound. He cleared his throat, trying to come back to himself, to act like a grown up, but it was too much work. Instead, he sighed, deep and long, and leaned back against the headrest, his temples beginning to pound.

Toph snapped her fingers at him like he was a disobedient child. "You're wallowing. If you have to wallow, at least drive while you do it."

He glared at her, for once upset about having to be anywhere near her. Usually Toph made him feel better, not worse, despite her acidic personality, but today wasn't one of those days. She was in some kind of mood, he could tell that. Or maybe it was him. Thinking about it, that was much more likely, that somehow this was his fault. That would make sense. Everything else was his fault, why not this too?

"Toph, could you shut up for just a single goddamn minute?" he asked.

"No." Her voice was high and tight with anger, her mouth a pale slash through even paler face. "You've had a whole week to feel bad for yourself. I've put up with it."

"You've mocked my pain."

"Yes, that's what friends do. But I haven't told you to put on your big girl pants and get over it yet. Now, I am. Get the pants, Zuko. Put them on. Get the hell over yourself and stop trying to drown yourself in your sorrows. I don't care how much you liked her, or how much you fucked up, or how bad you feel about it. Sitting in your car and feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to make it any better."

He set his jaw. "You know, I don't  _ need _ to drive you home."

"Fine." To his great surprise, Toph felt around for the door handle and went to open it. "I can get home by myself. I'm not fucking helpless, Zuko. I thought you knew that."

He stared at her for a second as she opened the door and swung legs and cane out onto the asphalt.

"No, Toph, come on." The guilt washed over him in a wave. "It's fine, I can drive you home. I'm sorry, that was ... I'm ..."

She didn't shut the door but she stopped getting out of the car. "Yes," she said. "You are."

He stared at the back of her head, the wild fan of dark hair that stuck up at all the wrong angles. He was being an idiot. He knew he was being an idiot. But everything felt terrible. Now, without Katara, without something to look forward to, to focus his attention on, he was backsliding into the miserable person he'd been before he'd met her. The problem was that now he knew there was something else in the world apart from ongoing misery. His father wasn't something he just had to suffer through, not if he didn't want to. His life could be better.

But without her ... that seemed impossible again.

"I'm just so ..." Zuko said, trying to think of one word to encapsulate that feeling, "So  _ tired _ ."

Toph closed the door with a click, swinging her legs back in at the last moment. "Good," she said. "When you get tired of something, that's when you change it."

Zuko blinked. "Wait, was this some kind of test?"

Toph gave him an exhausted look that told him of course it had been and he was stupid for thinking otherwise. "Come on, Zuko," she said as though he was beneath her, which honestly he probably was at this point, at least given the way she treated him. "Let's go. We have things to do."

"I don't think we have anything to do, really," Zuko said.

Toph gave him another look, this one with an edge of pity in its judgement, though not much. "Do you want the girl back or not?"

Zuko made a face of his own, a kind of sour one, and pulled out of the parking spot. Most of the other cars were long gone given that he’d been forced to fight Toph before he could get home, but it wasn't like there was going to be anyone timing him on when he got home. It was his “real” home too, these days. He longed for the quiet of Iroh's house, but that was so close to Katara's that he might see her, and he wasn't sure he could handle that. Besides, he didn't feel like he deserved to be at Iroh's right now. He'd done too much stupid stuff to be allowed that measure of comfort.

So he drove to Toph's house to drop her off. 

She didn't talk most of the way there, which worried him. Toph didn't actually have an off setting. If she was being quiet, there was a reason for it, and whatever that reason was, it was probably highly dangerous. Keeping an eye on Toph was basically a full time job, and when she wasn't just monologuing every thought she had, that was when Zuko knew he was in for something. Something bad.

But he also didn't ask her, as they moved through the snowy town. There had been another storm and the roads were clear and dry now but Zuko still kept an eye out for slush. His car wouldn't handle it well. It made him paranoid and it also didn't allow him to take corners as fast as he liked, in order to let off the steam building behind his eyes.

Finally, Toph said, "So have you actually talked to Katara yet?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Zuko sighed, not wanting to talk about it but knowing that Toph wouldn't let it go until he did. "She's mad at me," he said. "I don't want to intrude on that. I don't need to get yelled at. I know I messed up and I don't know how to fix it. Talking would probably just make it worse."

"You're an idiot," Toph said affectionately.

"Well what would you do, oh mighty teacher Toph?" Zuko snapped.

"Well, as you know," Toph began, putting one hand to her chest, "I  _ am _ a master in the ways of love —”

"You've never had a date in your life."

"Don't interrupt, Zuko." Toph shook her head at him in something like disappointment. "Please, I'm trying to work."

Zuko fell silent, apart from the snickering which was really hard to control.

"What  _ I _ would do," Toph continued, still in the same voice of overblown education, "would be to  _ use my fucking goddamn words like a grown up _ ."

"You're only fourteen," Zuko pointed out. "You're not a grown up."

"And yet, somehow I'm more mature than you, you fucking fossil." Toph tossed her too long, stringy bangs out of her face. "How does that work, oh great and knowledgeable sage of heaven and earth?"

Zuko grumbled and turned into Toph's driveway, his hands too tight on the steering wheel despite the fact that Toph's teasing was also making him feel better. Between Azula's nastiness and his father pretending everything was fine between them whenever Zuko was home, despite the fact that Zuko hadn't actually said a single word to him, things in his house were starting to get deeply anxious.

Toph at least was normal.

Unfortunately, Toph was also a pain.

"So what do you suggest?" he said, pulling to a stop in front of Toph's house and putting the car in park, but not making any move to get out. 

Neither did Toph. She wrapped her hands around the top of her cane and stared out the windshield at ... well, nothing. Zuko watched her, the little frown to her wide mouth, the slant to her eyebrows. There was something going on somewhere in Toph's head, somewhere he couldn't see 

"Zuko," she said, suddenly quiet, barely breaking the gentle silence inside the car, "are you ever going to help yourself?"

"What?"

She turned her face towards him, but not all the way. "You want to help her. All the time. You protected her, taught her to fight. You help me, even when I don't want you to. You help everyone, even if you're a pain in the ass about it. Hell, you even help Azula, just by being in that house and giving your dad another target to take out his tiny penis rage on —”

"Please god don't talk about my dad's dick," Zuko said.

"But," Toph said, louder than Zuko, "you won't just goddamn help your fucking self. It drives me crazy, Zuko! It drives me absolutely fucking mental that you just sit there when it comes to your shithead father, or like whatever other problem you're having. Let this be the thing, Zuko! Let Katara be the thing you're going to actually fucking fight for, okay?"

"Why are you so dramatic about this?"

Toph made a face, her mouth twisting and nostrils flaring like a dragon about to breathe steam. "Because I actually care if you live or die, dipstick."

"Yeah, well," Zuko said, annoyed, "the last time I tried to stand up to my dad, he broke my ribs."

Toph's mouth twisted into a full sneer, her upper lip rising to show small, sharp teeth. "Yeah, I know," Toph said. "Don't let that stop you, though."

"Don't let two busted ribs stop me?"

The sneer turned feral, in a way Zuko had never seen on Toph's face before. It was frightening the way her face could twist like that into something nearly inhuman, so full of anger that the hair stood up on the back of Zuko's neck. "No," Toph snarled, all her teeth showing. "If that fucker comes at you again, kill him."

"I can't ..." Zuko swallowed. "Toph, come on."

Toph's face softened, but only fractionally. "Fine," she said, a low sort of sound. "I'll kill him."

"What is wrong with you?" Zuko snapped.

"Or even better," Toph said. "Let Katara do it. That girl's scary when she's mad. She'll be your knight in shining armor."

It seemed smarter not to say anything, since Zuko didn't want to have to insist that no, that was his job, he was supposed to be the one who was strong for Katara not the other way around. Even though he knew. It was easy enough for him to use a couple of nasty looks and a well deserved bad reputation to make sure Katara didn't get picked on by teenyboppers. It was a completely different thing to stand up to his own father, who had taken on a kind of evil presence in Zuko's mind, the kind of thing that was more shadow than substance but still hurt him, somehow.

And Katara, who was steel all the way down, without any of Zuko's own delicacy and failings, probably would have an easier time of it.

Toph patted his shoulder. "Think about it," she said, and got out of the car.

He stared forward through the front window, only vaguely acknowledging when she crossed in front of the car, his mind elsewhere.

So when she knocked the end of her cane against the window, his heart almost stopped.

Annoyed and clutching his chest, he cranked down the driver's window. "What do you want?" he snapped. "You better be careful, that thing's hard and if you break my window —”

"Do you own a tux?" Toph asked.

Zuko was shocked enough to not say anything for a minute. He blinked. "Yes, of course I own a tux," he said finally when it became clear that Toph wasn't going to just go away, the way he hoped she would. "What kind of richie do you think I am?"

"Good," Toph said, and turned away.

Zuko watched her walk across the driveway to the front door, her head up and her back straight, the cane weaving in front of her, and wished he could be more like Toph, that strong in the face of the things arrayed against her, or like Katara, still kind and caring at the end of the day, despite what people said about her, or the hardships she'd been forced to go through. He wasn't either one of those things. He was strong, but only to a point, and he wasn't particularly nice, not unless he tried at it.

He leaned down and bopped his forehead gently against the steering wheel.

"Get it together, Zuko," he told himself and pulled out of Toph's driveway in a spray of damp white gravel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got the motivation to finish this by watching Scott Pilgrim vs. The World again and getting to see Mae Whitman fake an orgasm and then I was like "Boy, I have something I'm supposed to be writing, whoops." Take any inspiration you can get, that's what I say.
> 
> Sorry it's short, I have to get on to the cahooting.


	20. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the montage chapter, and it's hard to write a montage, so I did some dress sketches at the end of this chapter. Unfortunately, they are all drawn directly from references. The 80's were a bad, bad time for fashion y'all.

"I don't see why I have to do this," Katara said, folding her arms and glaring out the windshield.

"God, you are such a downer lately," Suki said. She drove with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping lightly on the gearshift to the music on the radio. Her little Volvo had a significant stutter that Katara hadn't noticed before, but Suki didn't seem worried about it, so Katara tried not to panic. Not that Sokka's car didn't have its share of bad noises, she reminded herself, and it hadn't fallen apart yet.

She didn't bother to respond to the downer comment — there had been a lot of them lately from pretty much every side and it was getting easier and easier to brush them off. Instead, she stared down the street as though there was something to see other than neat trees.

"Where are we going anyway?" Katara asked.

"We have to pick someone else up."

Katara narrowed her eyes, looking around the neighborhood with renewed interest and a healthy dose of suspicion. "Who do we know who lives in this area, Suki? This isn't our side of the tracks."

"You know plenty of people who live here," Suki said slyly.

Katara's stomach went cold.

"Hooo boy, your face." Suki chortled. "Chill out, Katara, I'm not going to throw you through Zuko's living room window or anything. We're not here for him. I don't think this is really his kind of outing."

And with that, she pulled her busted up Volvo into the beautifully manicured driveway of Toph's house.

"What," Katara said slowly, "Are we doing here?"

"We're picking up Toph," Suki said, hitting the break and sliding slightly as her bald tires tried to find purchase on the gravel. "Obviously. What did you think we were doing?"

"We're bringing a blind girl shopping?" Katara said, keeping her voice down as the door opened and Toph appeared. " _Dress_ shopping?"

"Maybe she'll have some insight," Suki said blandly, rolling down her window. "Hey, Toph! How's it hangin'?"

Toph adjusted her trajectory slightly and made a pretty solid line towards the car. "Hey, Suki. Thanks for springing me from the faciest's jail cell. You got Katara with you?"

"She's right here, and she's pissed!" Suki said with far more enthusiasm than she should have had for someone being mad at her. "So everything's going great. Hop in, let's get going."

Toph felt around, opened the back seat door, and slid in. "Awesome," she said, grinning as she settled into the back seat and tucked her cane between her knees. "I'm pumped. Are you pumped, Katara?"

"Don't take this the wrong way," Katara said, already worried about the question she was going to ask, "but what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to come along," Toph said, not even bothering to pretend she was hurt. "Is that a crime, Katara? Are blind girls not allowed to have fun? Are we not allowed to dress up? I have a dance to go to."

"You're coming to the formal?" Katara whipped around. "I thought it was for juniors and seniors only. Aren't you a little young?"

"Sokka invited her," Suki said. "I invited Aang. Figured we'd swap dates when we got there."

"You're going with _Aang_?" Katara said, suddenly even more confused. "Did he ask?"

"No, I want someone to go with," Toph said, rolling her eyes. "Don't worry, I'm not going to threaten his virtue. I'm so not interested in it."

Katara glanced at Suki, confused, and Suki mouthed, "Later."

"So let me get this straight," Katara said, whipping around to look at Toph again. "You and Aang are conning your way into a dance and you're coming dress shopping with Suki and now let's see, what's the real question here? Oh yeah, that's right. Why am I going on this excursion with you?"

Toph rolled her eyes as Suki said, "Because you're obviously coming to the dance, you dumbass."

"Excuse me?" Katara's voice cracked on a high note. "What do you mean I'm going to the dance? I am absolutely not going. I don't have a date, and I don't want to spend the whole night watching you and Sokka make out in a corner. And hang around all those people who hate me? No thanks."

"Have I mentioned that no one cares what you want?" Suki said casually.

"Asshole." Katara folded her arms. "I don't want to go. That should be enough."

"It would be," Suki said, "if you were making that decision because you _actually_ didn't want to go. I know you. You're scared about going."

"Am not."

"Scared because Zuko asked you, right?" Toph said from the back.

"Jesus Fucking Christ, Toph, could you be a little less obvious?" Suki said, rolling her eyes. "I mean, yes, obviously that's why she's scared, but you didn't have to just blab about it like a fucking dingus. What's your damage?"

Toph sniggered in the back seat.

"I'm not scared of ... of ..." Katara didn't want to say it. "I'm not scared of him, okay? I'm not scared of being around him at a dance or whatever. It's not like he's going to come now anyway. He was only coming because I made him do it."

"If by ‘made him’ you mean he invited you because —”

"Yes, I know." Katara held up a hand, her heart pounding. She'd been trying her best not to think about Zuko often because it just seemed pointless to have to pretend that she was okay about the whole situation. Because she wasn't. She really wasn't and she knew she wasn't. It wasn't even that she wasn't okay with how things had gone down, that she was mad at him — she was. It was more complicated than that. She missed having him around, missed being around him. She missed getting to talk to him, getting to argue about stupid things all the time. It sounded dumb even to her own ears, her own thoughts, but that was how it was. She missed him. She missed him a lot. 

But she was still pissed at him.

So it was kind of hard to square that particular circle.

"Anyway," Suki said, waving a hand again as they turned towards the mall, a place Katara had been avoiding like the plague this year. "The issue isn't that you're scared of Zuko. I don't think that's exactly what's happening. I do think you're scared to go to this dance because you don't know what's going to happen there. What if he gets his shit together and apologizes? What are you going to do then? Do you have a plan for that?"

"He's not going to apologize," said Katara.

"Why do you think that?"

She thought about Zuko's stubborn chin, the loook he'd gotten right after he'd said ... that dumb thing he's said. Like he knew he'd fucked up but he was too mad at himself, at her, at the situation to take it back. She didn't blame him for that, not really. She probably would have done the same thing if it had been her saying the dumb thing. It wasn't like she hadn't been stubborn before ... all the time. So she undestood it enough to know that there would be no way she would have apologized, and it was stupid to think that Zuko would apologize either.

"He's just not going to," Katara said.

"Maybe you don't know him as well as you think you do," said Toph in a dangerously bland sort of way that made the hair on the back of Katara's neck rise. 

She whipped around, even though she knew Toph couldn't see her. "Look, I appreciate that you've been friends with Zuko for a lot longer than I have," she said, forgetting all her nervousness in her anger. "I get that, okay? You don't need to rub my nose in it or anything. But I have a pretty good grasp on who he is as a person and I know for a goddamn fact that he's not going to suddenly come to his senses and say he's sorry."

Toph blinked at her, the kind of slow and delicate blink of a cat who doesn't think itself in any danger. "Are you sure of that?" Toph drawled, still in that calm and infuriating way that made Katara want to punch her right in the face, "or are you projecting? Because I think you're describing yourself. Not Zuko."

"Same thing."

"Not really," Toph said. "Zuko's got a lot more damage to him. Not that I'm saying you don't. God knows you've got your own bullshit and I'm not going to argue with that, but that boy has a lot more scar tissue than the stuff on his face if you know what I mean."

Katara thought of his bruised chest and the cracked ribs below it, but she didn't think that was exactly what Toph meant either. Toph was speaking metaphorically, emotionally, and she was probably right. It was easy to think of Zuko the way he portrayed hiimself — a shithead anti-authoritarian asshole. Looking past the jacket and the arrogance and the way he used his face to his own — or Katara's — advantage, that was harder. And she knew there was a hell of a lot more down there than just douchebaggery.

"Okay," she said quietly. "I get that."

"He's not you," Toph said. "He's different. He's not as good at fighting for himself, you know?"

That much was absolutely true. Katara nodded.

"Are you agreeing?" Toph said. "I'm going to assume you're agreeing."

"Yes, darn it, sorry." Katara stopped nodding, feeling stupid. "Okay, you're right, he's not me, but what does that ... mean."

"It means come to the damn dance," Suki said. "Fuck that. If he's not going to show up, that's his business, not yours. You should get to enjoy yourself anyway, even if you don't have a date. Who _cares_ whether or not Zuko apologizes for being a big dummy? I don't. You don't. Toph, do you?"

"Naw," Toph said. "That's none of my business."

"There you go," Suki said, nodding sagely. "So why don't we just get some dresses in peace and not think about boys for a hot second because no one cares about them."

"What about you and Sokka?" Katara said, somewhat offended. "Don't you care?"

"Not like that I don't," Suki said, rolling her eyes. "I could dump Sokka today and I'd get over it."

Katara wasn't sure she believed that, but maybe Suki meant long term and that at least was probably true. She reminded herself that things probably weren't as bad as she was making them out to be, but it didn't work and she just thought about how strange it was not to have Zuko to walk her to class every day.

"Stop it," Suki said as though she could read minds. "Stop thinking about him."

"I wasn't," Katara protested.

"Liar."

She didn't have any defense for that, so she fell quiet.

Suki pulled into the mall and parked the car. It was Saturday and there were more people here than Katara really wanted to be dealing with, but she'd put her personal feelings — and her desire to mope — aside in order to make Suki happy. Which now she was really regretting. On the other hand, if she'd argued, she'd probably still be here, but she'd be wearing her pajamas because Suki would have literally dragged her out of bed.

Katara was convinced that just about everyone she'd ever met was at the mall right now. At least it felt that way as they pushed in through the doors and were hit by the tide of noise. There were kids everywhere, groups of teenagers and middle school students left alone by their parents, having scrounged up enough change to take the bus. It was like the school cafeteria all over again, but now with even less adult supervision. There was a shock of anarchy to the place that made Katara nervous in a way she wasn't able to explain. Maybe it was the idea of having to go to school on a Saturday, which was essentially what this was without the part she liked: classes.

"You gonna freak out?" Toph said from Katara's elbow. "You gonna ralph?"

"How do you even know I'm freaking out?" Katara asked.

"Your breathing is really fast."

"How can you hear my breathing?" Katara couldn't even hear herself think, much less breathe. How could Toph?

Toph just grinned, her round face breaking into a toothy smile that did nothing to put Katara's mind at ease. "Don't worry about it," Toph said, which made Katara worry about it. "Come on, Suki, where are we going?"

Suki led them through the throng of kids and even a few adults, waving and yelling to people she knew. Katara kept her head down and pretended she was somewhere else. She focused on Suki's back, her name and number sewn into the green fabric of the letterman. Toph put her arm on Katara's elbow to keep herself from getting pulled away in the crowd and Katara accepted it because that gave her something to do.

Suki glanced back over her shoulder and grinned. "You two have to look more excited about this."

"Why?" Katara said bitterly.

"I can't see anything," Toph said sagely. "I’m not going to be excited about something I can’t see. You can't rely on me to be the hype man this time."

"This time?" Katara said dryly. "I don't think you know how to hype, Toph."

Toph laughed. "You're snotty when you're mad."

No matter what she said, she was going to prove Toph right, so Katara elected to not say anything at all. Instead, she followed Suki out of a crush of middle school kids and into a store pressed full of junior and senior girls and, most importantly, their mothers.

Katara almost turned around and left.

Instead she managed to grit her teeth and step further into the store, even though being there made her want to throw up. It was loud, but not with the echoing laughter of a cafeteria, more that kind of high pitched whine of excitement that only occured at baby showers and bachelorette parties, most of which Katara had only seen in movies rather than actually experienced.

Suki, though, elbowed her way through the crowd like it was a football game, and Katara followed along in her wake. The crush of people lessened significantly as they made their way inside, as it seemed like most of the girls were examining the new and exciting dresses on the mannequins clustered close to the entryway. Deeper inside the store, dresses hung on racks taller than Katara, organized by color. Light glinted off more sequins and rhinestones than she would be able to count if she spent her whole life doing it. She reached out and ran her hand over a skirt of red ruffles, the statin clinging to a patch of callus on her index finger.

"See," Suki said, spreading her arms wide. "That's better, right?"

It was actually better, but Katara wasn't planning on telling Suki that. "Yeah," she said. "It's fine. At least it's not like ... " She waved her hand at the entryway where the crowd was, which she now saw was filtering in and out of the first ten feet of the store and not going much further. 

Suki smirked. "Yeah, they're not really here for this. They just wanna beg mommy for something pretty and make a goddamn scene, you know how it goes. Now us, though. We're serious customers."

"Are we?" Katara thought, thinking of the money she _didn't_ have for a dress for the formal. "Suki, I don't know if you're aware of this, but I can't afford these. If you're going to make me come, I can go to the thrift store like I go for everything but —”

"I can afford them," Toph said.

"Okay, that's nice for you," Katara said, rolling her eyes, "but I still can't —”

"No," Toph said slowly and carefully, smiling in a way that Katara was starting to be scared of, "I said I can afford them. For you, dummy."

Katara's mouth dropped open.

She glanced at Suki as though this would clear things up, but it didn't. Suki was smiling too. Things suddenly cleared up.

"You two planned this," she said, accusing.

"Obviously," Suki said. "We know you've had a bad time of it lately. This is our way of ... well, cheering you up. Come on, Katara, get yourself something nice for once."

"It's not even prom," Katara said as though that mattered.

"A formal is still important," Suki said, even though Katara knew for a fact that Suki almost never went to dances and didn't put a lot of stock in them. When she looked at Katara though, her eyes softened and she said, more quietly, "Prom is like five months from now. You'll be over it by then, one way or another. And buying you something pretty in five months won't have the same therapeutic effect that it will right now."

And that was when Katara stopped fighting against going to the dance and just accepted her fate.

It was kind of sweet, she thought, turning around to pluck gently at the tule under the wide skirt of a dusty pink dress, that Suki and Toph were trying to make her feel better. Neither one of them were the most “feeling” of people, she knew that, but they were trying, and to Katara, that meant a lot. She was always the one trying to make other people feel better, so the fact that these two tomboys had gone out of their way to try to girl up for a day and make her feel like someone cared when she was admittedly in a pretty down place ... that was nice. That meant a lot more than it probably should, which maybe only showed how much of a mess she was right now.

"Okay," she said quietly. "Thank you."

"There you go." Suki nudged Toph hard with her elbow and Toph wavered on her feet for a second before steadying. "See, I told you she'd come around eventually. Besides, what am I going to do, have to go to a dance without my best friend? Who's going to make sure my hair looks good all night?"

_Best friend_ sent a little shock of emotion through Katara and she was enough of a mess already that it almost made her cry. She controlled the tears with effort, turning away and blinking furiously for a second until they stopped. It wouldn't do to cry in front of these two. They might not understand happy crying. They'd probably think someone had hurt her and go off to find whoever it was to beat the snot out of them.

"All right," Suki said, looking around over Katara's head and using that extra height to her advantage. "There's supposed to be someone around to ... there she is."

And Suki darted away, leaving Toph and Katara standing alone.

"I'm not going to get sappy on you," Toph said. "Just so you know."

"Thank you," Katara told her, smiling despite herself and hoping Toph couldn't hear it in her words. "I appreciate that. If you got sappy, I don't know what I'd do."

"Yeah, you think I would?" Toph snorted. "Look, I think you're cool, don't get me wrong. Shouldn't be cool, but you are. And I know Zuko's a complete dweeb and someone has to help him out."

That made Katara suspicious again, but maybe it was just that Toph in general was suspicious. "Okay, so are you helping me or him?" she said, narrowing her eyes.

"That's none of your business," Toph told her.

"Isn't it?"

Toph grinned, that uncomfortable, too wide smile she had when she was plotting something. "Come on, Katara, let me have my secrets. Just chose a damn dress, it's not like I can see any of them anyway."

Katara pursed her lips and folded her arms, ready to get into it with Toph about what exactly she was planning, but right then Suki came back into view with one of the sales assistants at her shoulder. She was a younger woman, only a few years older than them, which was good because Katara couldn't have handled one of those sixty year old women who was trying to sell her something to preserve her modesty. This girl was bright eyed and smiling, and Katara trusted her instantly.

"Alright," Suki said to the woman, clasping her hands together. "Here's the deal. We have a winter formal. Toph is blind — sorry to out you, Toph, but she'll need to know — and also hates dresses so we've got kind of a tricky one for you there, I apologize. I'll wear pretty much everything but it can't have one of those floor length skirts, formal or not. I'll trip and die. Also I have the thighs of a Greek wrestler. Sorry. As for Katara, she'll look good in more stuff than either one of us will probably, since she's kind of the girly one here, but here's Katara's deal. There's a boy —”

The woman held up her hand, eyes dancing. "Say no more," she said. "I know what to do about A Boy."

The woman, who introduced herself as Bisha and was apparently only nineteen, having graduated the year before — Suki remembered her but Katara was too young — led them to a little corner of the shop with a fitting room and a few empty racks. She pulled in a couple of chairs — "They're really for bridal parties, but we don't have any in today and you three seem like this might take some time" — and disappeared to start pulling a couple of dresses.

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Katara said, low and annoyed.

"Do you want to look hot or what?" Suki said, shrugging. She was still standing, holding a dress draped over her arms without waiting for Bisha’s opinion. "Look, I understand you being all pissy lately, but I need you to pull your head out of your ass and just put on a damn dress. It'll make you feel better."

"Will it?"

Suki put on her most serious face. "Of course it will, dummy. Looking good for yourself always makes you feel better. I know what I'm talking about. Listen to your elders."

"My _elders_?"

"I'm a year older than you," Suki said, sticking her nose in the air. "Just you wait until you're a senior and then you'll see." She shoved the dress, which looked like a lavender wedding cake, at Katara. "Here, try this on."

Katara, unwilling to argue, did.

As she pulled it on, trying and failing to lace up the back, Suki said from the other side of the curtain, "I'm thinking that maybe what you need, and stick with me here, is some red."

"I don't wear a lot of red," Katara said, turning in a small circle to try to zip herself into the dress. "It doesn't do much for my skin tone."

"Well, too bad for you, because I've got a red dress here I think you might like."

Katara rolled her eyes and stuck her head out of the fitting room. "Can you help me out here, or are you just going to be a pain in the ass?"

Suki grinned. "The second one."

Bisha, who had just returned from her scouting trip, stepped forward to finish helping Katara, who pulled her hair up and out of the way. "I think this one's nice on you," she said, looking critically over the dress. "You've got the hair to support the embellishments on the shoulder. It doesn't make your face look tiny, some girls have that problem."

Katara made a face. "It's a little ... light."

Bisha nodded. "So you're looking for something a little less pastel?"

"What do you mean?" Suki said. "You wear pastels all the time."

"Well," Katara said, putting her nose in the air. "Maybe I don't want to right now."

"Besides," Bisha said, undoing the laces with practiced fingers and then moving on to the zipper to help free Katara, "it's a pretty dress, but it's a little too old for you, I think. It's not exactly a dress for A Boy."

"All right, I know Suki said that," Katara said, shooting a glare in Suki's direction, "but there isn't a boy."

"So it's _that_ kind of boy," Bisha said, letting Katara dive back behind the curtain to take the dress off without being watched. "I see. That's something of a conundrum, don't you think?"

Katara didn't answer, not wanting to encourage the conversation.

"Yeah, he's a pain in the ass," Toph said. "What's this one? This feels nice."

"Absolutely not," Suki said. 

"Wow, way to shoot down my contributions based entirely on touch," Toph said with a laugh in her voice. "You'd think I have no taste."

"What about this?" Bisha said.

"Yes please," Suki said with glee in her voice and a second later an emerald green dress slid past the curtain held in Suki's callused hand. "Katara, give that one a go."

"I think this one is more you than me," Katara said but she took it anyway and stepped into the ruffled skirt.

Three dresses later — a teal with silk roses that Katara couldn't stand, a pale gold that was almost right except the color made her look like she was jaundiced, and a bright blue that Katara was willing to fight Suki on but had to finally say no to because the skirt was too tight around her ample hips — and Katara tapped out for a break and made Suki try something on so she could have a good time sitting down.

"So, what do _you_ want out of this dress?" said Bisha as she waited for Suki to change.

"To get laid," Toph said quietly.

Katara's whole face must have turned bright red, because Bisha covered her laugh immediately with one hand. 

"I do _not_ ," Katara snapped.

"Liar!" Suki dramatically threw back the curtain, the knee length bubble skirt of the red dress flaring around her knees like the bell of octopus tentacles. "Don't be such a prude!"

"That bodice makes you look like your boobs are on fire," Katara said blandly, despite the heat in her cheeks. "Those sequins are badly placed."

"Very true!" Suki threw the curtain closed again.

Bisha gave Katara a look that was equal parts amusement and pity. "You know, if you like the dress, he'll like the dress."

"I'm really ... it's not ..." Katara shook her head. "There _is_ no boy. This is not about a boy."

"Okay," Bisha said, holding her hands up. "That's fine too. Better to look good for yourself anyway, right?"

Katara nodded slowly. No boy, she reminded herself. There _was_ no boy, not anymore. And she didn't want there to be, that was another important thing. The dress was for her. After Jet and his supreme bullshit, she should have known better than to put her stock in men anyway.

Suki, better at putting her fashion sense to work apparently, however little of that there might be, narrowed it down to two dresses and announced that it was someone else's turn. They managed to get Toph into a couple, despite her complaining — "Why do I have to look good, I can't even see it?" — but it was hard to tell given that she refused to stay in them long enough to figure out if they looked good. It took Suki threatening to sew her into one for Toph to stand still long enough to be seen.

"You look cute," Katara said.

"Gross." Toph started reaching for the zipper.

"Toph, blind or not, if you take off that damn dress, I will punch you right in the face, is that clear?" Suki raised a fist to accompany the threat. "Let me just look at it, will you?"

"At least one of us can," Toph muttered, but she stood still and let Suki look her over.

And then, after they decided on a bright green number with a notched collar that wasn't too "girly" for Toph's delicate sensibilities, both Suki and Toph stuffed Katara back into the changing room with a whole rack of dresses.

"This is stupid," Katara said as she tried to step into a sea of ruffles. "I don't understand why I have to be the one who tries on everything in the store. It's not like I even have a date. Both of you do."

"Mine doesn't really count," Toph said. 

"Mine is your brother," Suki put in blandly, "so you don't care."

Katara just grumbed to herself because both of those things were true, she just didn't want to admit it. "All right," she said, rolling her eyes. "Fine. Then why don't I get to make decisions about what I wear?"

"It's not that you don't get to," Suki said. "It's that you won't. I don't care how wrapped up you are in Zuko's bullshit. Either you're over him and the dance and the dress aren't about him, or you're not over it, and at the end of the day, the dance and the dress _are_ going to be about him at least a little and it'll be better if you acknowledge that. You have to decide if you still like him."

Katara toyed with the ruffles on the skirt, spilling the shiney fabric through her hands.

"Okay," she said quietly. "So I guess I do still like him."

A silence from outside. Then Toph said, "Just to make sure we're clear, even though he was a dummy, you still like him?"

"Yes," Katara said, looking not in the mirror but up at the celing's low hanging lamps. "Okay, even with that, I still like him."

A slap from outside — a high five, she'd bet.

"You two are so supportive in my time of need," she grumbled, stepping into the dress and zipping it up awkwardly over one shoulder. "You know, I don't go around putting my nose into your business, now do I?"

"Actually," Suki said, and Katara could imagine her leaning back, looking self-satisfied, "if you hadn't gotten involved in _my_ business, I probably wouldn't be dating your brother. So if you think about it, you only have yourself to blame for all of this."

Katara sighed and pulled aside the curtain to give Suki a piece of her mind.

She didn't even get her mouth open all the way when Suki's eyebrows shot up and she said, "Oh, that's the one."

Katara paused. She glanced over her shoulder into the mirror behind her, as though that would give her some indication of what the dress looked like from the front. All she could see was blue-green sequins and ruffles. She hadn't bothered to take a look at the dress — all of this was seeming like more of a chore than any fun at this point.

"Don't mess with me," she said.

Suki got up and turned Katara around to look in the mirror.

The dress was a confection of dark blue silk. It had a high neck than Katara hadn’t been able to close, so Suki — fingers delicate despite the field hockey jock hands — buttoned up the collar. Over Katara's chest and shoulders was a panel of sheer lace that led into low puff sleeves and a form-fitting sequin bodice with a drop waist.

"I don't know," Katara said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "It seems like a little much."

"It's  a _dress for a formal dance,_ " Suki said, rolling her eyes. "It's supposed to be a little much."

"It fits you well," Bisha said, coming over to stand at Katara's other shoulder, giving the dress a smart pull. "I've had trouble with this one. Most girls don't have the hips to pull it off and they look like twigs in it. You can really make this dress shine. It goes with your coloring too."

"It's blue," Suki said, grinning. "That makes sense."

"I don't only wear blue," Katara snapped, waving a hand at her pink skirt in a crumbled ball on the floor.

"But for a dance, yeah, go with blue." Suki grinned at Katara in the mirror. "I'm teasing. You look hot."

"Thank you," Katara said blandly. "You're the worst fairy godmother I've ever heard of."

But she had to admit, the dress did look good on her. It gave her curves in a way that most of what she wore didn't. And unlike some of the dresses hanging in heavy rows around her, it didn't try to show off half her boobs.

It looked _good_.

Suki clapped Katara on the shoulder. "We'll take it," she said with finality that Katara should have gotten upset at, but couldn’t because Suki was making the right call. "You look good."

Bisha helped Katara unbutton the dress and slip out of it. "You look very nice," Bisha said quietly as she pushed Katara's hair away over her shoulder. "I hope you like it."

"I do," Katara admitted, restraining the curls with one hand and bending her head to give Bisha easier access. "Thank you for putting up with us."

Bisha laughed. "Are you kidding? This is why I like this job." She stepped back and Katara went to go into the dressing room to get herself back together.

Behind her, Bisha said, "I'm sure Your Boy will like it too."

Katara pulled the curtain closed, face burning, and tried not to think about that at all. For her own mental health, she decided. She was done with boys. Especially That Boy.

* * *


	21. I Want To Break Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My partner said they'd dump me if I didn't use a Queen song as a chapter title so here we are.

Usually when Azula came into Zuko's room, she did it without knocking, usually already speaking in the loudest possible voice she could. Today though, she knocked very lightly on the door, though she did open it without waiting for him to invite her in.

Zuko sat up. "What do you want?" 

She shot him a look, gently closing the door behind her as though she was worried it might explode. "What, are you mad that I want to hang out with my cool big brother?"

"Azula," growled Zuko, not interested in her nonsense today. He'd been lying on his back in the middle of his bed, staring up at the ceiling and not really thinking of much apart from how much his life sucked. "I'm not in the fucking mood, so if you could just insult me and go away, that would be ideal."

Azula looked, suddenly and shockingly, nervous. That stopped Zuko cold. He hadn't seen Azula look like that since she was a preteen kid sitting on his bed, scared of how angry Daddy was at her. Things had changed so much now that he was almost suspicious of the expression, though he calmed himself by remembering that looking weak would hurt Azula more than it would hurt him. There was no way she would stoop to even pretend that.

"What's up, kiddo?" he said, swinging his legs off the bed.

Azula's face shuddered through a couple of expressions — fear, disgust, snide discomfort — before settling back on neutrality. "Don't get too sappy, Zuko, I just need a little peace and quiet. And your sad and depressing little room is at least quiet. Unless you're going to start crying."

"You know, you're really a little shithead when you put your mind to it," Zuko said, immediately regretting trying to have a feeling for his baby sister. He threw himself back onto the bed, bouncing slightly. "Why are you here? You have your own room."

"I do," said Azula, with that careful way of speaking that made Zuko nervous. Azula was a creature of few moods, but almost all of them were nasty. He loved his sister, but he didn't particularly like her. And by and large, he didn't feel bad about not liking her. But now she looked ... unhappy. And in the most selfish of reasoning, something that made Azula unhappy was going to make Zuko miserable.

Given that Zuko was already miserable, getting  _ more _ misery would really cramp his style, and he wasn't interested.

"Okay," he said, wary. "So why don't you just tell me why you're in my room and not yours instead of beating around the bush?"

"Daddy's in a mood," she said, and there was an attempt at eye rolling and hand waving to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal, but Zuko knew better. "Your big cloud of pathetic sadness had worked to keep him out of the ... to give you some privacy. I'm just taking advantage of that privacy."

Zuko sighed. But he couldn't very well just push her out of the room. It would be cruel to force her to deal with their father just because he didn't want to deal with her.

"Okay," he said. "You can stay, but only for a little while, and I swear to God, if you give me any kind of crap, I'm throwing you out on your ass, is that clear?"

"God, Zuko, you're such a hardass lately." Azula rolled her eyes and sat down on the other end of the bed, leaning back on her hands. "It's really boring."

"You're boring."

Azula made a face.

"Don't you have like ... a friend to go bother?" he asked, getting off the bed and walking over to the window. When he flicked the curtains out of the way, he saw snow falling from a hard sky the color of stone. "Or are you just scared to get some water in your hair? Do you think it's going to ruin that perfect crown of hairspray?"

"I just don't want them ... " Azula trailed off.

It came to Zuko in a shock of knowledge. "Oh," he said. "You don't want to tell them Dad's being a freak again, huh?"

"It's none of their business," Azula said, sounding at least vaguely offended which was better than nervous.

"Okay, whatever." Zuko put his hands behind his head and leaned back against the headboard. "So you don't wanna tell Mai and Ty Lee. But you're willing to hang out here?"

"I have my pride."

"You have nothing but pride."

"At least I'm better than you," Azula said, sticking her nose up in the air. "You have no pride at all. You're just sitting here feeling sorry for yourself because a girl doesn't like you."

That shut Zuko up. He couldn't really dispute that.

Ater a minute he said, "How do you know about that?"

"I know about everything," Azula said, flipping her ponytail back with one hand.

He sighed. "You know, a good sister would stay out of my business, and not try to get involved in things that don't involve her. But you, on the other hand. You're a crummy little sister and you're being a real pain."

"That's my job."

"Is it?"

Azula rolled her eyes dramatically, and despite the fact that she absolutely  _ was _ being a little brat, Zuko felt better because at least she wasn't nervous. "Zuzu, think about it," she said as though he was an idiot. "If I was nice to you, that would be going against the little sister code. You wouldn't want that for me, would you? I could lose my licence."

"Your shithead little sister licence?"

"That's the one." Azula snapped her fingers. "Look, as much as I enjoy seeing your lame butt around here instead of at Uncle’s, I really do wish you'd get your crap together. You moping over some girl? Ugh. Gag me with a spoon."

"Drama queen."

She smiled. It wasn't her normal sneer, but it was almost there. Better. Better than when she'd come in at the very least. They were going in the right direction.

"So are you telling me to forget about The Girl, or am I supposed to go after her?"

"I don't care." Azula shrugged. "Either one is fine with me, as long as you get over it fast."

"Asshole."

"Look, I'm sure you could give Mai a call if you wanted. Don't you want someone who doesn't make you jump through hoops?"

"Mai  _ does _ make me jump through hoops," Zuko said, pointing one finger at her as though he was making a point in a courtroom. "The hoops are 'don't get emotionally invested in me or anyone else' and 'pretend your dad isn't a douche' and neither one of those things are good."

"Picky, aren't you," she said, and he was surprised when she didn't fight with him about his characterization of their father. That wasn't a great sign, or maybe it was just that Azula had decided to stop lying to him at the very least.

"Sorry I wanna be happy," Zuko said.

Azula sighed, deep and dramatic. "It's all right. We all have our flaws, though you have more than most. Look, if you're going to be a baby about this, then just tell The Girl you like her and you're sorry about ... whatever it is that you did, and then you'll be fine. Stop moping. Take some action."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "That actually sounded like good advice. Who are you and what have you done with my sister?"

"Jerk."

"Brat."

Downstairs, the front door slammed. Zuko jumped up and peered through the curtains again in time to see their father striding across the driveway and getting into his dark, low car. The engine started, roared, and the car peeled out of the driveway.

"Coast is clear," Zuko said. "Dad's gone."

Azula sighed, relief clear in her relaxing shoulders, and got up. "Good. Now I can get out of this hell hole you call a room." Her nostrils flared. "Would you open a window? It smells like depression in here."

He should have been mad. Honestly, Zuko was starting to feel like he should be a lot more mad at Azula in general, especially when here she was using him to avoid their father and still being unpleasant about it. But he wasn't. There was a lot going on with Azula, he knew that better than anyone, and as much as he wished they could be on the same side of things, it just wasn't going to happen.

She paused by the door before leaving and looked back at him. Her eyes, so much like his own, were sharp and hard, even though the rest of her face was settled into its usual relaxed lines.

"Just be careful, Zuko," she said. "Right now, when you're sad, you're not as stupid about Daddy. But when you're happy ... " She shrugged and said with some effort, "I just want you to have an escape plan."

"Escape?"

She nodded. "We're different, you and I. You're less resilient."

"I'm not a Daddy's girl, is that what you're saying?"

"Yes," she said, displaying an honesty that was usually beyond Azula. "That's exactly what I mean."

And with that, she closed the door behind her with a decisive snap.

Zuko sighed and rubbed his face, exhausted. When had Azula become so aware of what was going on in this house? He knew he had to be, but her? That was ... it was a little spooky actually, how cognizant she was of what she was doing, of her own part in the drama. But she was right.

And in a way, she had given him permission to leave.

Zuko was ready to settle back onto the bed in a depressive fugue, but there was a sharp knock at the door and he sat back up again. Who would be here midday on a Saturday? It wouldn't be Mai and Ty Lee. Azula wouldn't have had time to call them to have them come over and they never did it on their own (partly out of fear, Zuko thought, but partly because they rarely did things without Azula's permission). So who would it be?

Sighing, he got up, looked out the window — the overhang over the door didn't allow him to see who was standing there and he didn't see a car — and went to the door to figure out exactly what was going on.

Azula had already answered and was speaking in a sharp, clipped voice that made Zuko immediately concerned. He took the stairs down two at a time, holding onto the smooth bannister so he didn't fall over doing it, and was on the second to last step before he could look around the door Azula held open to figure out who was visiting.

It was Sokka.

Zuko was so surprised, he almost fell off the step. Sokka stood in the doorway with his hands shoved into the pockets of his acid washed jeans, thumbs tapping against his hips. His jacket was slung over his broad shoulders and his round face was set in an expression that Zuko could only interpret as somewhere between uncomfortable and pissed off. His hair, with less curl than Katara's, was pushed back from his forehead and had the slightly rumpled look of having been fiddled with once or twice too often.

"Oh boy," he said, looking at Azula, eyes widening. "Look, I’m sorry I forgot the Queen Bitch would be here. Don’t take it personally, Crazypants. Is your brother around?"

"Crazy  _ what _ ?" Azula snarled.

"Whoa, chill out." Sokka held up one hand and tried to look like he wasn't bothered, but he also took a step back when he did it, which was a safe choice. "I'm not here to piss you off. Where's Zuko?"

"I"m right here," Zuko said, coming around Azula's shoulder and taking the door from her in a clear dismissal that she didn't listen to very well. "What's up?"

"Just the man I was looking for," Sokka said, not bothering to step forward again. "Gotta talk to you about some shit."

Zuko licked his lips, looking over Sokka's shoulder in case his father came back. "You want to come in?"

"No." 

That actually made Zuko's life a lot easier. If Sokka had wanted to, he would have had to let him into the house, and Zuko didn't want to subject anyone to his house. Sokka already seemed like he was pissed off about being here. Making it worse wouldn't do either one of them any good.

"Okay." Zuko grabbed Azula by the collar and hauled her out of the doorway so he didn't have to peer over her. "Move, brat."

Azula shrieked and fought him, but he was taller than her and she wasn't willing to hurt him, not right now. If she had been, there was no chance he'd win, but since she was also interested in whatever was going on, she wasn't going to start a real fight in the doorway. Zuko managed to deposit her out of the way so he could lean against the door frame and take up as much of it as possible. It wouldn't fully block Azula out of the conversation, but it was a better job than nothing.

Sokka watched, one brown eyebrow raised. "Weird to see you two act like people," he said.

In response, Zuko shrugged, though it all was starting to feel like some kind of macho competition he hadn’t signed up for. "Guess somehow we're all people at the end of the day," he said. "No offense, Sokka, but what are you doing here?"

Sokka's expression darkened considerably which made Zuko even less comfortable with having him standing on the doorstep. "Okay, heads up. I don't wanna be here. You don't want me to be here. But yet, neither one of us are about to get what we want, so just shut up and listen for a minute." Sokka took a deep breath and pressed his hands together in front of his mouth, the fingertips going white with pressure. "Will you ... ?" He took a deep breath. "Okay, let's do this. Will you. Please. Come to the Winter Formal."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Sokka said. Now he looked not only upset but deeply uncomfortable. "I know how it sounds and I'm not going to say it again."

Zuko shoved his hand into his pocket and wondered what in the name of God was going on right now. "I'm going to go out on a limb and say you're not asking me to go with you, because I think Suki would be kind of pissed if you did."

"Yeah, she'd fucking murder me," Sokka said. "She's out buying a dress right now so if I tried to take you, I'm pretty sure she'd punch  through the engine of my car. No, I don't want you to be my date to the Formal. I just uh ... want you to come."

"I need to tell you, this doesn't sound like a Katara plan," Zuko said, voice bland though his stomach twisted when he said her name. "She's not really the kind of person who would subtly try to influence me by sending her brother to my house."

"Naw, she's about as subtle as a hammer, I'll give you that," Sokka said, his mouth curving up into a smile at one side. "You're right though. Katara didn't put me up to this." Sokka raised three fingers. "Scout's honor. I'd tell you."

"So which one of them was it?" Zuko asked.

"I can't tell you that," Sokka said seriously, "because I like my dick where it is and I'm not interested in having anyone cut it off."

Zuko raised an eyebrow, unable to argue with that.

"So you just want me to casually turn up to this dance?" he asked. "No reason for it?"

"Nope."

"Are you lying to me?" Zuko pushed.

Sokka grinned. "Yup, but in my defense, I was told not to tell you."

Zuko paused. This was a lot to process all of a sudden.

"While I'm going to say this isn't a Katara plan," he said again, more slowly, "it does have the feel of a complex series of teenage girl leaps of logic, so I'm gonna assume Suki."

"You didn't hear it from me."

"Is Suki trying to get us to make up?"

Sokka's scowl darkened. "Zuko, let it go, I'm not saying anything. Suki's scarier than anything you could ever do to me. I'll never talk."

"All right, all right." Zuko held up a hand. "I get it."

Sokka's face shifted suddenly from stoic annoyance into awkwardness. "Look, though. And I don't want you to take this the wrong way, because this isn't any of my business, and I get it if you want me to back off. But full disclosure, my sister likes you. And I'm no expert or anything, but I'm pretty sure you like her too. Whatever stupid bullshit happened, that should be enough."

"Maybe to you that's enough," Zuko said darkly. "Around here," and he waved an arm to encompass the whole neighborhood, "it's not."

"Okay," Sokka said, his jaw hardening. "Then I guess it's a good thing we're not from around here. I get it, Zuko, you're not from our side of the tracks. We're not the kind of people you usually associate with. But that doesn't mean the way you and your people do things is better than us. At least we talk about our drama instead of hiding it behind fancy windows and yuppie parents."

Zuko didn't really have a response to that.

"Come to the dance," Sokka said, his face gentling again. "Come on, Zuko, don't let your house and your family and your social standing define you."

That was hard to argue with.

"I don't want to get wrapped up in some girl plot," Zuko started.

"You won't. Not unless you want to." Sokka shrugged one shoulder. "It's against the big brother code to try to get guys to date your sister, you know. I'm supposed to try to chase them off with a baseball bat or something. But between you and me, Katara is the brain of the family. Emotionally, I mean. It's not my strong suit. If she likes you and thinks you're worth it, then you probably are."

Zuko blinked. "But does she  _ still _ think that?"

Sokka shrugged. "Probably. If she didn't, she wouldn't be so mopey. Come on, man, if I have to listen to her deep dramatic sigh performance one more time, I'm gonna go mental."

That made Zuko smile, even if it was just a little bit. "Okay," he said. "I'll go."

Sokka punched him in the shoulder. It wasn't gentle. "Thanks," he said and it seemed like there was some actual relief in his voice. "I dunno what I was gonna do if you said no. I think Suki's next plan was to stage a kidnapping."

"Wouldn't want that," Zuko muttered.

"You think I'm joking," Sokka said, stepping away from the door, "but I'm not. See you, Zuko."

"Bye." Zuko checked the driveway again, but it was mercifully free of his father still. "Let me know if I should ... you know, not come instead. If she changes her mind." He didn't know if he was talking about Katara or Suki.

"I will." Sokka was walking backwards down the driveway now, still watching the house, and Zuko started to wonder where his car was. It would stand out like a sore, rusty thumb around here. "I've got a friend with your number, don't worry."

"A what?"

Sokka just grinned, turned around, and strode off down the street with his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Feeling like he was missing something important, and also like he'd been very kindly threatened, Zuko closed the door and turned around to find Azula still leaning on the balustrade behind him.

"Looks like you got a date," she said, and grinned.

Zuko flipped her the bird and went back to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of quick update notes: due to The Plague, I have (temporarily) lost my job and now I have to spend the next four to eight weeks at home. This is not ideal for me because I'm a workaholic extrovert and full disclosure, I've been home for a week and a half already and my mental health is not doing well. Weirdly, it's made me want to write LESS so I'm trying to hit my brain a little and get some chapters out for y'all.
> 
> SO! I'm making up a ton of projects. If you want to check them out, the best way is through my tumblr at grapefruittwostep where you can keep up on both my work and my current level of obsessive house cleaning.
> 
> Stay safe and healthy out there, y'all, and try not to go to pieces as much as I am.


	22. Dress You Up

 Katara's first hint something was wrong came when she found not one but two corsage boxes on the kitchen table.

"Hey, Sokka," she said, reaching out, "did you mess up and double order for Suki?"

She'd only seen Sokka move that fast on a football field. He came barrelling out of the kitchen at top speed and nearly slammed into Katara. She only just managed to spin out of the way so she didn't take a shoulder to the solar plexus. It took her farther away from the table and she didn't get a chance to open up the boxes.

"Don't touch them!" Sokka yelled, nearly throwing himself onto the table. "Not for you! Do not touch things that are ... that are not for you!"

Katara stared at him, open mouthed. Sokka's hair was still wet and fell over his forehead in damp strands — he'd barely gotten out of the shower and was only wearing his dress pants. It made him look like he'd finally lost his entire mind — half dressed, wild eyed, thrown across the table.

"Oookay," Katara said, rolling her eyes. "Whatever. I'm not going to ask. And I'm not going to touch your stuff, don't worry."

Sokka didn't move. He just narrowed his eyes at Katara. "Aren't you supposed to be primping?"

" _Primping?_ "

"Yeah, you know, getting ready to go to the dance. Hairspray. That teenybopper shit you love. You know. Girl stuff."

Katara, who had just gotten back from school and was wearing a long skirt and a cardigan over one of her every-day blouses, rolled her eyes. "Chauvinist pig."

"G’bless you," Sokka said. "You know the formal is _tonight_ , right?"

"Of course I know." Katara folded her arms. "I mean, I have a dress, right? I figured I'd just kind of throw that on and —”

"Oh, you'd just throw on a dress and that would be ... it? For the formal?" Sokka narrowed his eyes at her. "Katara, can't you for once just get on board with being in a good mood? Get excited about something. You're such a square."

Katara rolled her eyes. "Sorry I'm not being enough of a ditz for you, Sokka. Maybe I should just try to follow your example and throw myself around like the star of some daytime soap."

"You’re mean," Sokka said.

"You've been watching too many of Gran-Gran's stories," Katara said, shaking her head and starting to edge out of the room. "I'm just going to leave you to this, and I'll go to my room and —”

The door opened behind her and she didn't stop in time, which meant she walked right into Suki's arms.

"Sup?" Suki said, catching Katara easily. "Hey, Sokka. What are you doing?"

"Suki, I say this with love in my heart," Sokka said, pursing his lips and not moving. "It's none of your business."

Suki raised an eyebrow. She still held Katara up with one hand, but the other was flipped over her shoulder and the plastic bag holding her dress flapped against her back. "Okay, whatever," she said, shaking her head. "Come on, Katara, you're not anywhere near ready."

"I didn't realize I had to get there."

Toph — hair rumpled and eyes wide — stuck her head around Suki's shoulders. "It must be so nice to be able to ignore your problems like that," she said.

"You can't even see my problems." 

"I feel them in the air," Toph said, adopting a deep, dramatic voice. "They fall upon my mind like ... I dunno, something that smells like unwashed hair."

"Gross."

"Oh, I'm gross?" Toph rolled her eyes. "I'm not the one who still has school sweat all over her. You’ve been working real hard in math class? I know you have to strain yourself for those grades —”

"Does she have to be here?" Katara demanded.

"What, are you going to kick her out?" Suki set Katara back on her feet and took her by the elbow, walking her towards the stairs. "Let's leave Sokka to ... whatever the hell he's doing, okay?"

"Thanks, babe," said Sokka, still bent over the table.

"Put a shirt on!" Suki yelled over her shoulder.

"You two have such a ... nice ... relationship," Katara said, trying to figure out how to say it without offending anyone and probably failing. "It's really ..."

Suki rolled her eyes. "What, is it not disgusting enough for you?"

"No, it's gross," Katara said. "I know it's gross. But I mean ... I don't know, shouldn't he be like ... giving you his jacket and carrying your books or something?"

"What would I do with his jacket?" Suki asked. She plucked at her own field hocky letterman, which fit her better than Sokka's ever would. "I have mine. Am I supposed to wear two jackets at the same time? That would look really stupid."

Katara rolled her eyes. "See, this is what I mean. Gross, and yet so practical."

"I have things to do. So does he. Don't worry, he'll drool all over me in my dress, just you wait." Suki grinned in that self satisfied way. "If you want gross, just wait until then."

"Yippie," Katara said in a monotone.

She allowed Suki to hustle her up to her bedroom and throw open the door. Aang, sitting on her bed doing his homework, looked up.

"Oh, hey," he said.

"Katara," Suki said, looking at Aang and then back at Katara. "Not only are you not dressed, you have a child in your bedroom."

"I'm not a —” Aang started, his face going stormy.

"Can it, shortstuff," Suki said, holding up a hand. "I like you, but that can change."

Aang's mouth snapped shut and he scowled at Suki.

"Don't take it personally," Toph said, moving towards Aang's voice until she found the bed and sat down next to him, her feet and knees drawn up against her chest. "Jocks are just _like that_."

Aang laughed.

"So what that he's here?" Katara said, forgetting all about Sokka and his corsage situation in the new worry about exactly what Suki was going to say. "He's here all the time."

"I know," Suki said, her calm, understanding tone fake and overly sweet. "And yet, can you tell me why this day is different from all other days?"

"Uh," Katara said.

"Oh, I know!" Toph's hand shot up like she was still at school, though Katara had a feeling that Toph had never once been so excited to answer a question from a teacher. "Suki, pick me, pick me."

"Excellent. Toph, go ahead." Suki stood up a little straighter and pointed to Toph.

Toph put her hands down, crossing her palms over her knees. "Is it because tonight is the dance that Katara already agreed to go to and has a totally choice dress to wear?"

"That's correct, good job," Suki said, turning back to Katara. "That's exactly the reason why today is important and you probably shouldn't have a boy in your room, or have not showered, or be wearing no makeup and an old lady sweater."

Katara scowled. "I know what day it is."

"Toph, would you like to expand on the idea?" Suki said.

"Well, if we analyze the text properly," Toph said, "we might find that Katara doesn't _want_ to go to the dance anymore, even though she agreed to it. And I bought her dress for her. So she owes me."

Katara groaned.

"Great work." Suki said. "Anything else?"

"She doesn't want to go because of Zuko," Aang said quietly.

Katara turned to stare at him, her mouth open, and saw Suki and Toph doing exactly the same thing. Aang looked up from his homework, mouth twisting in a tiny smile with only a hint of melencholy to it. "What?" he said to Katara. "Hey, I may be only fourteen, but I'm not _stupid_."

"I never —” Katara started. She'd been insistent on not talking to Aang about Zuko. She wasn't sure she believed the whole nonsense about Aang’s crush, but even if it wasn't true, that wasn't the kind of thing she was comfortable telling him. He was too good a kid to drown in her drama. He'd have plenty of time for that when he was older.

"You didn't need to say it," Aang said. "I don't know if you know this, but I'm probably going to be valedictorian in a few years. I’m very smart. It's not hard to make a couple of connections."

"I thought you didn't like him."

Aang shrugged. "He's not so bad, when he's not trying to keep everyone away from him." That smile came back, still just a little bit sad. "You bring out the best in him, Katara. That's what you do to everyone."

Katara blushed.

"Grody," Toph said. "All these feelings are making my skin crawl."

Suki whirled on Katara. "Why are you going back on this? Just because of Zuko? I told you, he probably won't even be there."

Katara narrowed her eyes, suspicious. Something was going on and she knew it, even if she wasn't entirely sure what that something was. Suki gave off the distinct feeling of being up to something, and Katara didn't like that.

"I swear to God," Suki said. "I did not invite Zuko to the dance. I have not spoken to him about it at all. I promise you."

That seemed truthful enough but there was still something bugging Katara.

"Can we just get ready to go?" Toph complained. "Seriously, if you guys keep getting all emotional all over this place, I'm going to break out. I don't want a zit at this dance. There are going to be cute girls there."

Katara opened her mouth to ask what Toph meant, but Aang interrupted. "I have to get ready too," he said, gathering up his homework and tapping the papers into a neat stack. "I'll give you guys the room." He grinned at Katara. "I promise, if Zuko does show up and you want him to leave you alone, I'll fight him for you."

Since Aang was about a foot and a half shorter than Zuko — his growth spurt still hadn't come in — the idea that he'd be able to fight anyone was pretty ludicrous, but Katara smiled back anyway. "Thanks," she said, honestly grateful that at least he was willing to, even if she'd never ever ask it of him.

Aang ducked his head and scampered out of the room with his books pressed to his chest.

"That is a real nice boy," Suki said approvingly, closing the door behind him. "He's gonna make a real nice wife for someone someday."

"Suki!"

"What?" Suki held her hands up. "I'd love a man who could take care of me emotionally. Maybe I'll dump Sokka and go out with Aang instead. What do you think?"

"Gross," Toph said.

"Anyway." Katara walked to her closet and opened it, taking out the dress in its own plastic bag which matched Suki's. "Let's get this over with."

It turned out that despite everything they'd said about getting her ready, Katara did most of her own work. In point of fact, she was better at putting makeup on her own face than either Suki or Toph, who tended to be on extreme sides of the makeup line. Suki spent the whole time telling her that her eye shadow made her look "like my goddamn grandma again, how does this always happen to you?" and encouraging her to go big or go home. Advice that Katara took, though somewhat unwillingly. She would have prefered to just look like she normally did, but next to the sequins on the dress, she _did_ sort of look like someone's mom.

So maybe Suki had a point about the eye shadow.

Katara did it like she meant it.

Toph sat somewhat quietly while Suki and Katara worked on her face — quiet except for the fact that her mouth was fixed in a scowl that was difficult to put lipstick on and she kept up a low growl in the back of her throat the whole time.

"Stop being a baby," Suki told her. "You agreed to this, now you have to accept the consequences."

"I don't have to accept shit," Toph muttered through her tight lips. 

Katara took the only option available and ignored her. 

When Katara finished, Suki gave them a final once over like a commander readying troops for battle. She straightened Katara's necklace and fixed the collar of Toph's dress which tended to go askew pretty much whenever Toph slumped, which was all the time.

"I guess it'll have to do," she said as though resigned to her fate.

"Wow, because that makes us all feel so good," Toph grumbled. "I love when people tell me I'm okay enough."

"Look, if you wanna be inspiring, you gotta try a lot harder," Suki said.

"Can we please," Katara said in exasperation, tired and annoyed already and they hadn't even gotten to the dance, "just have one single second where you two don't try to out-bitch each other? I get that we're all tough here, but let's remember our manners tonight, okay?"

"Manners?" Suki said, laughter in her voice.

"Fuck that," Toph said.

Katara threw up her hands and went for the door. "I tried," she said as she pulled it open, revealing in the hair-spray-free air of the hallway. "No one can ever say I didn't try. When we tell this story later, I want it on the record that I attempted reconciliation."

And then she went downstairs, not waiting for Suki to try to present her like some kind of prized cow.

Aang sat at the kitchen table, his back very straight so he didn't wrinkle his mustard suit. "Wow," Katara said, pausing on the steps. "You're very bright."

"I feel like a traffic light," Aang grumbled. "Look what Sokka did to my hair." He patted it and winced. He'd always kept his hair short, but now it was puffed up as much as it could be. "I think it's petrified."

"You look very nice," Katara said seriously.

Aang sighed. "Thank you. I feel silly."

"So do I," she told him.

He looked up at her and his eyes shone like silver coins. "You? But you look ... you look ..." His cheeks turned pink. "Very pretty."

"Thanks," Katara said wryly, "but I feel like one big ruffle."

"That's what you look like," Sokka said, sticking his head in from the living room. "One big, ugly ruffle."

"I can always count on you to be a jerk," Katara told him.

Sokka grinned like an idiot and shook his head, coming out of the living room and into the already crowded kitchen. He was wearing a suit which Katara didn't even know how he'd afforded. If Gran-Gran had given him the money for it, Katara was going to murder him. 

"I know that look,” Sokka said. “Calm down. I have my own money."

"From all that work you do?" Katara snipped.

"Yes, from all that work I do." Sokka made a face. "I did some deliveries for Mr. Wan. Told him I needed the money to take my girlfriend to a dance. You know what a romantic he is."

"Oh." Unfortunately, Katara didn't have a pissy sister responce to "I worked hard to get my own money" and therefore had to keep her mouth shut. It was hard.

He stuck his tongue out at her.

"You look like an idiot," she told him, though he wouldn't care — it was just the principal of the thing.

Suki came down the stairs a second later, which thoroughly distracted Sokka. Her legs looked amazing, though not delicate and slim the way actresses did, since Suki's legs were those of an ancient Amazon and the heels made her muscles stand out. Katara was jealous. She had no muscles to speak of.

"Damn," Sokka said loudly, the highest compliment he could pay.

Suki rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Calm down, it's only a dress."

"It's not _only_ a dress," Sokka said, catching Suki's hands at the bottom of the stairs and whirling her down off the last step as though they were already on the dance floor. Suki laughed. "It's a hot girl in the dress too."

"Gross," Aang said quietly.

Katara glanced at him and grinned in agreement, though there was part of her that wished she could have that. With someone way better than Sokka, obviously. Someone who hadn't tried to rub boogers on her when she was a child. That would be ideal.

Aang looked back at her and gave her a quiet little smile, and for a second Katara wondered what exactly that meant. And then he looked past her and saw Toph, then got up from the table and went over to her. "Do you want a hand?" he asked, and she took it to let him help her down the last stair and into a chair at the table.

"Don't wrinkle that dress!" Suki yelped.

"Bite me," Toph said and sat down. "We're going to have to sit down in the car anyway, so why don't you shut up about —”

"Oh shit," Suki said, interrupting her as she looked up at the wall clock. "Guys, we gotta go. The dance is starting in five minutes."

"Okay, so we'll be fashionably late," Sokka said. "I have to give you something."

"Well give it to me quickly," Suki said, pushing out of his arms and getting her jacket and keys, "because we've got places to be."

Rolling his eyes, Sokka got one of the corsage boxes Katara had seen earlier and opened it for Suki to look at. "There you go," he griped at her. "Have some flowers even though I _guess_ you're just not _interested_ in —”

Suki turned around with her jacket over her shoulders, grabbed Sokka by the back of the neck, and kissed him. "I love the flowers," she told him, pulling back. "You did a good thing. Thank you very much. Now can we go to this dance? I need to embarrass Katara on the dance floor."

"Fine," Sokka said dramatically. "I guess."

But when Suki turned away, digging in her pockets for her car keys, the smile plastered across Sokka's face was the mushiest, nastiest thing Katara had ever seen. She rolled her eyes and turned away.

Aang and Toph were sitting at the table, laughing together with the crushed giggles, heads bent together as though sharing a secret. On the other side of the room, Sokka watched Suki like she was the most beautiful and awe inspiring sunrise he'd ever seen in his life.

And then Katara in the middle, all alone.

She kicked herself immediately — it wasn't like Aang and Toph were dating, they were just going to the dance together as friends, and Sokka and Suki, well ... she was happy for them, obviously, it was stupid of her to act like she was upset.

The last thing she wanted to do was ruin some stupid fun dance for everyone. That wouldn't be fair of her to do at all.

So she put on her best smile, the one she'd practiced in the mirror for hours after her mother had died, clapped her hands together, and said, "So are we going to do this or what?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks y'all for waiting, I decided to try to edit a novel this month and it made me cry, but I'm over that stupid idea now so we're just gonna bang the rest of this story out rapid fire (I hope). Anyway, this is just filler.
> 
> Aang's suit is based on the one my father wore to his bar mitzvah, technically that was in the late seventies but it's literally the ugliest thing I've ever seen in my life and had to make an appearance here. I do not have photos on hand, but I assure you it was heinous.
> 
> (When this is done, I have some other projects in the works so y'all should check out my tumblr (grapefruittwostep as well) to keep an eye on what I'm considering planning out)


	23. Hold the Line

Zuko sat in his car outside the school with the windows up and the engine on and wondered, not for the first time, if he could just leave again. His suit felt too tight, the jacket pinching under his armpits — he'd been younger the last time he'd had to wear it and hadn't consented to buying a better one as he grew. His shirt itched. The pants were basically right but there was an extra half-inch of ankle that he shouldn't have been showing and he'd had to make do by putting some regular black socks underneath instead of the "right" suit ones that his father insisted he own.

And after all of those excuses, there was a whole list of other ones he could think up about why he shouldn’t go into the dance.

He'd seen Suki's Volvo parked close to the gym when he'd pulled in, empty and dark. It had probably been there for a while. Which meant at least Suki was there, which meant Sokka was there. 

Which meant Katara was there.

The full scope of this plan — whatever scope there was — was obvious to him now that he'd finally thought about it, and he wasn't sure it was a good idea for him to go in there.

If the whole point of this was to get him and Katara back together — not that they'd even been together in the first place — well, that wasn't something he was interested in doing.

Well, it was, but not if he was going to make an ass of himself again. He could really do without that part. And she might still be mad. He didn't want her to be mad. And more importantly, he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. God, she would probably rather never see his face again, given the way she avoided him at school. How much worse would this be for her, getting blindsided by him at a school dance? Some friends had to do this to her. Maybe he should just leave ...

And besides, his suit didn't fit.

Zuko sighed so deeply it felt like it came up from the bottom of his soul.  He could come up with as many excuses as he wanted, but at the end of them, he was going to be in that shitty, gussied up school gym because if there was even the smallest chance Katara was going to forgive him, Zuko was going to jump at that like a hand reaching into dark water to haul him out.

He leaned his head back onto the seat rest, which was probably crushing his hair, and groaned. He had it bad. And he was an idiot. A terrible combination.

And then, because sitting here wasn't doing anyone any good, he got out of the car and walked inside to face his doom.

He hadn't realized it, likely because he had never actually been to a school dance, but there was a theme for this semi-formal. As soon as he walked in, the light took on a blue-green hue and he had to pause to orient himself. It still looked like a school gym — really, that was an impossible thing to cover up — but green crepe paper has been strewn along the walls and blue drapes of fabric hung from the ceiling. The student committee in charge of dances, which Zuko knew existed but didn't care about, had been hard at work, building some kind of trellis around the outside walls, creating what he thought was supposed to be some kind of undersea bower. Blue and white balloons hung from much of it, and there were blue lights set there, little alcoves where people could sit. It was difficult to hide the fact that the seats were in fact bleachers, but they'd done their best to turn the whole thing into a kind of mermaid's paradise.

"Great," Zuko said out loud to himself, pulling at the collar of his shirt which felt very, very tight.

He looked around, trying to spot a friendly face in all of the people pressing around him, but there weren't any. Or at least, he couldn't see any. Suki had to be here somewhere — she was the ringleader of this whole nonsense and there was no way she would have gone to all the trouble to set him up and then not come to see how it all turned out. 

Much to his surprise, though, he couldn't spot her. For some reason, he'd thought she'd have stood out a lot more than anyone else, just because she was Suki. But just because she played an important role in his life right now didn't mean that the universe cared enough about his problems to make them front and center.

He also didn't see Katara anywhere, which was both relieving and disappointing.

Part of him wanted to run, but there wasn't much point in that now. Even if he couldn't see Suki, she was here somewhere, and if he tried to leave, that was probably exactly when she'd find him and strike, taking him down like a lion taking down the weakest gazelle.

Anyway, he'd already put on the suit.

The first step was to get out of the way. He was standing right in the doorway and there were people pushing around him. So he took a step forward and entered the dance proper. There was a band on the stage and they were ... well, they were fine but he didn't really notice the music. That would mean he was looking at something that wasn't the people around him in case one of them tried to ambush him.

Not that he really thought someone was going to ambush him or anything.

A hand came down on his shoulder, large and hard, and Zuko nearly rocketed out of his skin. "Hey, there you are," Sokka said behind  him, then caught sight of his face. "Wow, take a chill pill. You look like you're going to piss yourself."

Zuko shook off Sokka's hand, uncaring of how kindly it was meant. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Wow, paranoid much?" Sokka rolled his eyes. "Here."

And he shoved a little box into Zuko's hands.

Zuko stared at it like an idiot. He didn't open it, just looked at the outside like he would suddenly develop x-ray vision. "What's this?" he asked, looking back up at Sokka.

"It's a box," Sokka said, and grinned.

"Thanks," Zuko said, shaking the box gently to see if it made any kind of sound — it didn't. "What's in the box?"

"Well, why don't you open the box and find out, instead of standing there like a dumbass."

Zuko, realizing that was a good idea and far past the point of taking offense at any kind of name calling, shrugged, and opened the box. Inside was a corsage made out of purple flowers and pale yellow ribbon. The middle bloom was the size of Zuko's fist. 

"What's this for?" Zuko said, staring at it.

"That question is so stupid, I'm not even going to dignify it with a responce." Sokka rolled his eyes with the kind of dramatic motion that one only developed as an older sibling. "Don't be stupid, Zuko. You know what it's for."

Zuko closed the box and tried to put it back in Sokka's hands, but Sokka wouldn't take it. "I don't want this," Zuko insisted, hating how his voice got darker and raspier every time he was upset — it was such a tell. "I don't have anyone to give this to and we both know it. Pawn it off on Suki or something."

"If you think I didn't already get one for Suki, you're an idiot," Sokka said. "That's for you. Come on, understand what it cost me to get that for you."

"I can pay you back."

"My  _ pride _ , Zuko." Sokka slapped a hand into his chest, right in the middle of his seafoam green tie. "It cost me in my pride. Come on, you know what it's for, now you just have to do it."

Zuko looked around the room again, as though Katara was going to spring at him out of the darkness like a horror movie monster, but no, it was still just kids dancing near the stage and other kids not dancing away from the stage. He gritted his teeth, trying to think of a way to make a distraction and escape from this very awful conversation, but nothing was presenting itself. So he gave up and took the box back.

"Thanks," he said, not pleased about having to say it at all. "I guess."

"Yeah, you're right, you'd better thank me." Despite the words, Sokka was grinning. He slapped Zuko on the shoulder and it hurt. Zuko had to stop himself from hitting back, forcing himself to remember that Sokka was being friendly. 

"Hey, look," Sokka said, pointing over Zuko's shoulder. "I think that girl needs a corsage."

Zuko turned towards one of the litle bleacher alcoves and saw Katara sitting on the bench with her feet in blue heels crossed at the ankle under the hem of her dress. She leaned slightly forward, resting her head on her hand, looking forlorn and melancholic like a Renaissance painting. 

Zuko's stomach clenched up.

When he turned back, Sokka was gone. Zuko managed to spot him being pulled onto the dance floor by Suki, whose legs looked amazing — not that Zuko was ogling or anything. When she saw him looking at her, Suki winked and pointed very obviously back towards Katara, then gave him the most overdramatic thumbs up he'd ever seen.

Zuko shook his head in awe. "That crazy bitch," he muttered in both horror and admiration, and went to go say sorry a lot.

* * *

"Is anyone sitting here?" said a familiar voice.

Katara looked up even though she already knew who it was and found Zuko standing over her. He looked ... good. For once, his hair was swept out of his face and it made him look younger and less bitter. He was wearing a suit, a simple black one that fit a little more closely than it probably should have, but it looked nice anyway. Different enough that Katara could only sit and stare for a second, trying to rationalize the usual Zuko's ripped jeans and scuffed jacket with this awkward, well dressed boy standing before her.

"Look," Zuko said, not meeting her eyes and raising one hand to touch his hair as though he wanted to pull it back down over his face, "I already feel uncomfortable enough so could you just say yes or no?" He cleared his throat. "Please?"

Katara considered running.

But he looked so ... scared. She couldn't run away, not when he looked like that. For a quick second, anger rolled in her stomach, but that seemed like so much work. She'd been mad at him, so mad, so scared and hurt and upset that he would put his emotions on her, but she was done with that. She'd had the time to think about it.

The time to miss him.

So she didn't get angry, and she didn't run away.

"Did Suki put you up to this?" she asked instead.

"I thought Suki put  _ you _ up to this?" Zuko said, his eyes narrowing. His fingers twisted in the sleeve of his suit.

There was a long pause and they both turned to look at the dance floor. The band started playing a slow tune and the dancefloor emptied of everyone but couples. Aang and Toph danced near the outside of the crowd, shorter than the rest of the dancers. They stood a full arms length away from each other, arms out like zombies. Toph had her hands on Aang's shoulders, and his rested on Toph's waist so lightly that his palms were completely flat, fingers sticking out rather than wrapping around her sides.

Katara couldn't stop herself from grinning. It was so cute.

Motion caught Katara's eye and she saw Suki and Sokka, dancing much closer together than Aang and Toph. Sokka's hands were dangerously close to getting him kicked out of the dance. Suki turned and waved at Katara over Sokka's shoulder, then pointed at Zuko, then at Katara, then grinned.

"I got set up," Katara said quietly as other couples twisted in front of Sokka and Suki and blocked them from view.

"Join the club," Zuko grumbled.

They tried very hard not to look at each other for a second and Katara finally said, "I guess you  _ should _ sit down then."

Zuko took a long, deep breath, sucking air in through his nose. "No," he said. "I need to apologize first."

Katara's spine straightened and she looked up at him, heart rattling around in her chest.

"We haven't really talked," Zuko said. "I mean, I've been avoiding you so I guess it's not your fault there either. But like ..." He blew out the breath he'd taken in, eyes darting. "I really fucked up. And I'm sorry."

Katara didn't want to look at him either. She stared down at her freshly painted nails, tapping them against the bench. Her chest hurt. Her lungs ached from not breathing. She wanted,  _ needed _ to meet his gaze, to prove to him she wasn't scared of him.

Zuko shifted awkwardly and moved the box he held from one hand to the other. "Okay. Let me start again. I shouldn't have thrown that at you, Katara. I'm not ... going to lie and say that I didn't actually feel that way, but I didn't need to say it. I didn't need to burden you with all my bullshit right away. It wasn't fair of me. And then to get mad at you afterwards ..." He trailed off, and grumbled something she couldn't hear.

"I don't ..." Katara started.

"I'm really sorry I'm such a fuckup," Zuko said, cutting her off and rubbing his free hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry I just threw all my feelings at you like that because I had one goddamn moment where I felt happy. I  _ really _ like you, Katara. But that doesn't mean I expect you to be as stupid as I am right away."

Katara blinked up at him. "I think there was a real apology in there," she said.

Zuko raised an eyebrow and then grinned just a little bit, like he'd nearly forgotten how to do it. She almost smiled back, but then stopped herself, just in case he had more to say and her speaking stopped him from saying it. She wanted to hear every single terrible attempt at an apology he was going to throw at her, if only to laugh at him about it later.

"Okay, fine," Zuko said, leaning against the flimsy column beside him and then thinking better of it. "I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable. I'm also sorry I got mad at you when I realized I'd made a mistake. I put a burden on you that you didn't deserve. You already have all sorts of people who count on you, who put their emotional bullshit on you. And I shouldn't be another one of those people."

Katara looked up at him, tilting her head slightly. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, wondering what to say to him. He was right. But he knew what he'd done. He knew to apologize.

"I'm sorry too," Katara said quietly. "I should have ... we could have talked about it."

"Not when I was getting all bitchy," Zuko muttered. "And needy."

"Bitchy and needy is like ... your entire personality," Katara said, smiling, and to her great relief, he let out a single snort of laughter in response.

She looked up at him and he met her gaze. It was ... a lot to take in all at once, the intensity of his eyes, the fear there. He was nearly vibrating with anxiety and she couldn't blame him.

"You know," she said quietly, "I don't ... think I love you. But, um ..." She cleared her throat and ignored the stab of hurt that flashed across his face. "I'd um ... like the opportunity to get there."

Zuko went so still, Katara worried he'd stopped breathing.

Finally, and with great seriousness, Zuko said, "Katara, would you like to go to the Winter Formal with me?"

Katara blinked. Then she looked around at the Winter Formal they were both currently attending, smiled, and said, "Yeah, Zuko, I'd really like that."

Zuko let out a huff of breath and sat down next to her as though all of his bones had collapsed at the same time. "Ho ly shit, I thought you were going to tell me to just fuck off. Wow, I ... I ..." He ran his hand over his hair. "That may have been the scariest thing I've ever done."

"Saying you're sorry?"

He gave her a glare, the corner of his mouth curled. "You're still a pain."

"Is that any way to talk to your girlfriend?" Katara asked, putting a hand on her chest in mock offense.

Zuko blinked at her. "My ... my  _ what _ ?"

"Your girlfriend." Katara shrugged. "I figured you did a lot of heavy lifting today, with all the apologizing." She took a deep breath to cover her pounding heart and smiled at him. "Isn't it easier that I did this part for you so you didn't have to ask?"

"Who said I was going to ask?" Zuko snipped.

Katara fluttered her eyelashes at him, using her most innocent face. "Weren't you?"

For a second, Zuko's face held and then his good cheek turned pink and he looked away. "Okay, yeah, I was going to ask. But if you're going to be a brat about it, I don't have to."

Katara laughed.

"Oh, yeah." Zuko shoved the box he was holding at her. "This is for you." When she took it, he added, "I wish I could say that I got it for you, but actually Sokka got it, so I guess it's not ... that ... impressive."

Katara opened the box and smiled down at the flowers. She took the corsage out and slipped it onto her wrist. "Thanks, Sokka," she said and Zuko laughed.

They sat in silence for a second, the gym lights filtering through the blue and green crepe paper over their heads.

"Uh, so I think I should probably kiss you now," Zuko said.

"If you don't," Katara said as sweetly as possible, propping her head on her hand, "I'm going to dump you."

He leaned over, put a hand on her cheek, and kissed her, just a little because there were teachers and chaperones and if they got caught making out at a dance, they'd both get detention.

When she pulled back, he was smiling and trying to pretend he wasn't.

"Hey, uh," he said, twisting his mouth to hide the smile, "I guess we should dance."

"I guess we should," Katara said.

They grinned at each other and then Suki wolf whistled at them and ruined the moment.

Which was just goddamn typical.

Katara put her hand in Zuko's, which still made every square inch of her skin prickle like she'd been dunked in ice water. Zuko's fingers curled around hers and he got up, offering his other hand as well, walking backwards towards the dance floor. "I don't know how to do this," he told her.

"What, date someone?" Katara said, laughing. "I know. I saw how you were with Mai."

Zuko's mouth turned down and he finally looked more like himself, rather than an imposter with his face and someone else's suit. "Could you not be such a dingus so I can stop regretting this decision?" he said, putting his arms out like a scarecrow, clearly unsure of where to put them. "You know, we don't need to do this."

"Okay, okay," Katara said, taking pity on him. She put his hands on her waist, carefully positioning them despite his stiff arms. "I get it. You can't dance."

"There's not a lot of call for it in my life," Zuko said darkly. "Well, at least this kind of dancing. I can do a nice ballroom dance if you want." His eyebrows twisted. "I think. I don't know if I remember that either."

"Shut up, Rich Boy," she told him, laughing.

Zuko laughed too and relaxed enough to pull her closer to him. The song was almost at an end, for which Katara was grateful — slow dancing wasn't something she had a lot of experience with, despite the dances she'd gone to with Jet when she was younger. Her feelings too were very different. She kept looking up at Zuko, smiling, and looking away. For his part, his mouth and face were mostly furrowed in concentration, but when he caught her looking at him, his eyes sparkled.

When the song ended, Katara had just enough yelled warning from behind to stabilize herself as Suki leapt on her back. It would have been a hug if it had been significantly less violent. Katara rocked and Zuko grabbed her elbows to keep her upright.

"You did it!" Suki yelled, like they'd just won a hockey game. "You did it, you crazy bitch, you did it!"

"Wow, I'm so glad I got so much credit for this too," Zuko said darkly.

Suki reached out, over Katara's shoulder, and ruffled Zuko's hair, which he grumbled about. "You did great too, buddy," she said, shaking her head. "I'm just so  _ happy _ the two of you got your heads out of your asses for long enough to talk to each other, you dumb buttheads."

"I think that's the closest we'll get to congratulations," Katara said. Even though the song had ended, she didn't let go of Zuko's hand. It felt stupid, but she didn't want to let go of it either, so maybe not all that stupid.

Sokka gave Zuko the stink eye, but there was no heat to it. "You'd better not be a dick to my sister," he warned.

"You were the one who made this happen," Zuko said blandly, though he edged back just a little so he was slightly behind Katara. "Don't act all overprotective now."

"Sokka," Katara said in a warning tone.

Sokka grinned. "Don't worry," he said, reaching out to tweak at her hair and only stopping because Suki slapped his hand away with a horrified yowl. "He's a nice dude, Katara. For a punk son of a bitch."

"Thanks," Zuko said flatly.

Aang led Toph over, looking very serious in his suit. Katara realized he was finally starting to lose some of the baby fat in his face. He looked ... well, older wasn't the right way to put it, but more serious. Less like a child and more like an adult. Thinking of Aang as older than a little kid felt like some kind of tectonic shift in Katara's life, but she couldn't put her finger on why. She only knew that it made her a little sad.

Aang looked down at Katara's hand in Zuko's. His gray gaze flicked up to hers and he grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

"Did they do it?" Toph said loudly, putting a hand out and grabbing Sokka's elbow. "Did Zuko finally do something right?"

"Why is everyone an asshole to me?" Zuko complained.

"Yes, Toph," Suki said, met Katara's eyes, and smiled like she was the sun coming out from behind a cloud. "I think things are finally falling into place."

Katara couldn't help but smile back, equally brightly. 

Zuko’s shoulder knocked against hers, just once, and even though he wasn’t smiling, he looked happier than Katara had ever seen him.


	24. Higher Love

 Zuko looked in the mirror, at the lines of worry and determination around his mouth, and sighed. He tried standing up straighter, squaring his shoulders, trying to look like he was more secure in the decision he was making than he was. But the fear was still there, boiling right under his skin.  _ Gotta do it anyway _ , he told himself, trying his best to convince himself and his reflection, who was starting to look less and less confident with every passing second.  _ You gotta do it. Stop thinking and do it. _

He looked around his room. There was more stuff he'd like to take, but this was probably his only chance and the duffle bag hanging over his shoulder would have to be good enough. And the car. He figured he was at least owed the stupid, fucking car.

_ You just gotta do it _ , he thought at his reflection and turned around.

Maybe if he got out of here fast enough ...

But no. Of course he couldn't do that, couldn't just escape without some kind of confrontation. His father stood at the bottom of the stairs, a cup of coffee in one hand and the rolled up newspaper from the front stoop in the other. God, if only Zuko had gotten up a few minutes earlier, had thought this through, had left in the middle of the night instead — 

"Zuko," his father said, eyebrows rising. "Where are you going?"

Zuko opened his mouth. No sound came out.

Why couldn't he just ... say it? Why was he so weak? Why couldn't he do anything right? 

There was a knock on the door, the kind that insisted on being let in regardless of the fact that it was eight o'clock in the morning, or that whoever was on the other side might not be particularly friendly. Zuko stopped trying to think up a way to get out of this, and started panicking. His father, brows creasing in confusion, turned towards the door and pulled it open.

"Hi," said Katara, her smile bright and cold, eyes like steel. She stuck her hand out towards his father like a weapon, fingers flat and sharp. "You must be Zuko's dad. I'm his girlfriend, Katara. It's  _ so _ nice to meet you."

Zuko's jaw dropped.

Because there wasn't anything else to be done, his father moved like a sleepwalker to take Katara's hand, tucking the paper under his arm to free up a hand. "My ... what?" he said, at a loss for words in what was perhaps the first time ever.

Katara shook hard and Zuko could see that she was crushing his father's fingers in her own and that he was trying very hard to pretend she wasn't. "You have such a beautiful house," she said, still in that voice she used when she was lying or angry or both. "And what a beautiful neighborhood. You must be very grateful to be able to live here."

Zuko’s father’s eyes narrowed. "What ... forgive me, Katara, for my rudeness, but I didn't know you'd be coming over."

"Oh, that's all right," Katara said brightly, and released his hand in order to wave behind her. "We just came over to give Zuko a hand."

"What?" said his father.

And then Sokka, all six feet of quarterback muscle, appeared behind Katara, also smiling in that same fake way — it must have been a family trait. "Hi," he said, also reaching forward to shake Zuko’s father’s still-extended hand. "I'm Sokka. It's great to meet you."

And as he did, he maneuvered Zuko’s father out of the doorway by sheer force of personality, and Katara stepped into the house past him. And behind her was Suki, holding a couple of precariously stacked boxes in her arms. She smiled and kept moving which was a good thing, because behind  _ her _ were Aang and Toph, both with empty, floppy backpacks over their shoulders.

Zuko’s father followed their progress over Sokka's shoulder. "What is this?" he asked, the fake politeness disappearing. "Who are all of you and what are you doing?"

"Oh, we're just helping Zuko get all his stuff." Katara finally saw Zuko standing on the stairs and smiled at him. "We figured he could use some help carrying his things out to his car."

"His ... things?" His father tried to turn, but Sokka was still right there, big, broad shouldered, and unmoving. "What's the meaning of this?"

"Oh, well, you see, he's just one person," Katara said, gesturing   
for Suki, Toph, and Aang to go up the stairs past her. "It's hard to move all by yourself, don't you think so?"

And then she flashed Zuko’s father that smile that could melt glaciers.

"Which one's your room?" Suki said to Zuko as she passed him. 

"Third door on the left?" Zuko said and she nodded and kept going. He turned to stare after her as she went, unable to form a coherent thought or figure out what was going on. For once, he felt a lot of sympathy for his dad, because he had a feeling they both had the exact same look on their faces.

"Hey, Zuko," Katara said, looking up at him as though she did this every day, as though he knew what was going on. "Why don't you bring  your stuff out to your car so you can help us with the next load?"

"Okay," Zuko said faintly and walked down the stairs, past Sokka and his father still in the doorway, and out into the morning chill. His breath formed a heavy cloud of fog as he crossed the driveway and put his bag in the back seat of the Camaro.

What in the name of God was happening?

When he turned around, Katara had come out. "Come on," she said softly, taking his arm in both her hands and pulling him back towards the house. "You'd better tell Suki what you want out of your room or she’ll take everything just out of spite."

"Um?" Zuko said, following her. "What's ... happening?"

"We're helping you move out." Katara gave him a little grin, the kind that made his stomach flip over like he was a junior high girl. "Mr. Iroh told me you were moving. We thought we could offer some assistance."

In the doorway, Sokka was still engaging Zuko's father in conversation, polite and good natured conversation, but it was the sort of understated aggression that Zuko had never been good at. Sokka was smiling, but Zuko’s father wasn't. He just couldn't escape.

Toph and Aang came down the stairs, their backpacks full. Aang smiled on his way out and Zuko stared after him until Katara started up the stairs and he almost slammed his ankles into the bottom one. 

"Hurry up," Katara said, that smile still in place though her eyes were worried now. "Suki's kind of a hurricane of a person."

When they got up to Zuko's room, Suki was putting clothing in one of the boxes. Another one was already full of records. "Figured you'd want those first," Suki said, waving a hand towards them. "I would."

"Yeah, thanks," Zuko said, blinking.

"The kids got a bunch of books and clothes and shit," Suki told him, dropping bundled socks on top of the jackets in the box. "Anything else you really want?" She checked her watch, frowning. "I'm guessing we've got about five minutes before Sokka's charm wears off and your dad blows a gasket."

Zuko couldn't form words. There was a lump developing in his throat as the confusion ebbed. They'd ... come here for him. They'd all come out and braved his father's wrath and the potential of police involvement, and they'd done it for him. Sokka leveraging his football star charisma and good looks to distract the person that scared Zuko most in his life. Toph and Aang, just little kids really, ferrying things out the door and into his car. Suki ransacking his room, her mouth hard, keeping an eye on the time so they could get him out before there were consequences.

And Katara's smile and her hard eyes.

All for him.

"Guys," he said, voice watery.

Suki stood up quickly, checking her watch again. "Four minutes," she said, clapping Zuko on the shoulder hard enough to rock him on his feet. "Don't be a puss, Zuko, hold it together until we get outta here. You know, police response time in this neighborhood is bound to be real good, and I don't need a criminal record at eighteen, okay?"

Zuko scowled. "Wow, selfish."

She grinned. "You're such a baby," she told him, then handed him the heavy box of albums. "Take this downstairs, would you?"

He did.

Toph and Aang were already sitting in the back seat of Suki's car, which was still running. Music poured out of the radio, just a little too loud to be acceptable around here. There were neighbors standing in their yards and watching, which made Zuko feel ... really good actually. Let them see the shit they'd shoved under the rug for so long.

Suki came through the door, fast, carrying a box of what looked like random stuff she'd grabbed. She made eye contact with Zuko as she sped past his father and shook her head. "Let's go," she said as she went by him. "I'm readjusting the timeline, let's go, let's go,  _ let's go _ ."

Behind her, his father’s face was darkening into a cloud of anger.

"What about Sokka and Katara?" Zuko said, though he didn't really move back towards the house.

Suki threw her box into the back seat of her car, onto Toph's lap. She pulled open the driver's door and looked at him over the window frame. "Oh, the Charm Twins will be fine," she said. "Start that car, we gotta  _ go _ ."

Katara came out of the house a little more slowly with a box of his socks. Zuko’s father turned to her to say something and Katara hit him with that icy smile, the one that was too polite to get mad at and too hard to just plow over. His father paused.

Sokka stuck his hand out to shake again, which was a good distraction, and then the two of them were coming down the front steps, waving goodbye. "It was so great to meet you," Katara called as she opened the door to the passenger side of Zuko's car, and slid inside.

When the windshield was between her and his father, she said, from between the clenched teeth of her smile, "We need to  _ go _ ."

Zuko glanced at her, waited for Sokka to dive into the passenger seat of the car behind him at the same time Suki was pulling out of the driveway, and then put the car in reverse and hit the gas. He peeled out of the driveway in a spray of snow and manicured lawn, glad his car didn't make the same kind of mechanical grinding Suki's did as she accelerated.

"You guys are  _ crazy _ ," Zuko said.

Katara grinned at him, wild and unrestrained. "We weren't just going to let you do that alone," she said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Don't be silly."

Zuko's chest clenched. They'd come for  _ him _ , all of them, to save him.

He'd never had anyone who would do that for him before.

He took his hand off the gear shift as they headed out of his father's neighborhood, hopefully for the last time, and reached out for Katara's hand. She wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed tight, hanging on to him just as tightly as he hung on to her.

This, Zuko was pretty sure, was what being happy felt like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it folks! Thank you all so much for reading, I'm so grateful for all the comments and kudos people left, and all the messages that you dropped me on other sites. Please check out my Tumblr (grapefruittwostep) for other projects I'm working on or things that are going on -- I'm working on getting my novels up on Amazon soon and would LOVE for people to check those out when they get there.
> 
> This chapter includes the ONLY song that was made after the story was actually set because Higher Love was one I decided I wanted to use about six months ago when I started working on this. The rest are all from before the year 1984, which is when this takes place (I've gotten a few people asking exactly what year I set this, and yes, I did think about that)
> 
> Seriously, though, I'm so amazed by the way people have showed up to this and to the other things I've written and it just blows me away. I know I sound like I'm making an Oscar speech, but like ... I've been out of work and stuck in my house for the last two months and every single comment I get on this has made my time in enforced isolation that much more bearable. Y'all're amazing and I'm sure I'll have some other nonsense AU that I've just got to write at some point.
> 
> Thank you!


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